


Wishes

by Emma_Swan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Canon, Denial, F/F, Humor, Masquerading as a couple, Regina Mills - Freeform, Romance, emma swan - Freeform, tropes galore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2018-09-24 23:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9792422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma_Swan/pseuds/Emma_Swan
Summary: Emma can't leave the wishverse until she faces all of the desires she's tried to hide.[Picks up after the 6A finale].





	1. Chapter 1

There’s no time for second-guessing this jump, but Emma stands on the precipice of the portal and drops back anyway. Regina isn’t listening to her, even as she shouts out in desperation, “He’s not even real!” 

But the arrows that zip over her head are, and Emma has just enough presence of mind to grab Regina by the elbow and haul her away from the danger. 

As fast as her reflexes are, Robin’s aim is better and compensates for their movement. 

“Robin!” Regina cries out, but the thief pays no mind to her. He’s intent on robbing them, and he’s a different man in this land; he shoots first and doesn’t ask questions. 

Regina’s staring at him in that sticky, sweet way that proves she’s a liability to herself. She’s too distracted, and the neon-green portal suddenly dilates and contracts like an otherworldly demon-eye. Then the portal shuts, and the nearby lake ripples reactively, sending off tiny waves that make adrenaline rush through Emma’s veins. 

At the same time, Robin lets loose another arrow, and its jagged metal head embeds in Regina’s shoulder. 

Regina’s too stunned to do more than stare down at herself and the blood that seeps through her wool coat. With the portal gone, and Regina literally in a love-struck state, Emma resorts to instinctive action. She flies across the distance between herself and Robin and rams her fist into his face. His quiver falls from his back as she smashes his nose in, not even aware of how her magic has wrapped around her like a shield. 

It would be easy to blast him with a pure surge of energy, but the physicality of this attack is what her impulsive need for revenge demands. 

It’s not like her to lash out this way, not anymore, but she feels completely unrestrained and out of control – so very unlike the meek woman she had become in this wish land. She could knock his head off, but she’s satisfied with shoving him to the ground instead. 

He looks so baffled by her sudden aggression and power, and decides he’d better ask questions now. “Who are you?” he huffs. 

But Emma takes a page from his book and doesn’t respond to him. She turns to Regina, who has just noticed that the portal has vanished from sight. 

“It’s gone!” Emma confirms, squinting as the dimming sun reflects off the lake. “We’re stranded here.”

There’s a shadow on the horizon, which she mistakes for a flock of crows at first. If not for the familiar sizzle of magic in the air, she would simply guess a storm is coming and the birds are on the move. But there’s a familiarity to this pulse of the atmosphere, though she can’t pinpoint why. 

Regina clutches at the arrow in her shoulder and wrenches it out in one swift motion. “This is my fault,” she grunts, stripping off her coat to get better access to the wound underneath. 

Robin is still sitting flat on his ass, not far away. 

“Maybe it’s not,” Emma confesses, stealing a quick glance at Robin. “This is my wish world, isn’t it? That might mean this entire place is constructed exactly how I want it to be. It’s possible that nothing here is an accident, or a coincidence.”

She wonders why Robin has stopped them from leaving. Of all people, she’s not quite sure why he’s the obstacle – but he represents a lot of Emma’s conflicting desires. On the one hand, Emma wants Regina to be happy—and on the other, she has mixed emotions about Robin providing that happiness in any world. He’s never been the man that Regina needs, nor has he ever put Regina first.

Using a flash of the magic that still holds Henry frozen in time, Emma also freezes Robin. 

“So, what part of you secretly wanted to see me get shot by my soulmate?” Regina asks moodily, and then tends to her injury with the lightest form of magic. 

“I didn’t want him to shoot you,” Emma snaps out, though her eyes soften as she tries to make sense of this scenario. “Not consciously at least. It’s just—sometimes, I don’t think you realize how much he hurt you—”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to comment, given that the man in your life recently wanted to damn you and your entire family to hell,” Regina retorts. It gets under Emma’s skin that she’s still looking at Robin longingly. 

This argument isn’t one she wants to have, but Emma’s still not herself in this world—not quite so willing to hold her tongue over matters that have always bothered her. 

“Maybe I’m not happy, either,” Emma spits, her eyes darting around the landscape in search of a face she has no recollection of encountering here. “I mean, do you see Hook anywhere? There’s obviously a part of me that isn’t ready to commit to him.”

“Then why are you living with him?” Regina demands, as if Emma’s living arrangements somehow offend her sensibilities.

“It’s—convenient,” Emma huffs, as she struggles to come up with a single reason. “Sometimes he makes quesadillas.” 

It’s the worst excuse possible, if Regina’s face is any indication of how the woman feels about her logic. “And he lets me borrow his clothes,” Emma adds, thinking of his collection of leather jackets. 

“So those awful floral numbers you’ve been wearing are actually from his ‘special’ closet?” Regina mockingly intones. 

“My mother bought those for me,” Emma replies, with a roll of her eyes and a touch of acid in her voice. “She’s making up for lost time, or something. But that’s beside the point. Hook just has a lot of qualities I appreciate in a friend. You said a while ago that the two of you are similar, and you’re kind of my best friend. He’s a complicated person, and I feel like I need to look out for him. He’s had a rough past, and I keep him grounded--”

Regina scrutinizes her, and Emma hopes that for once, the woman will see right through her explanation to the sentiments that she’s too afraid to express. 

“So, you’re dating Hook because he’s tragically flawed like me?” Regina concludes, completely missing the mark, yet again. “That’s idiotic. You have a savior complex, and I suggest you see Archie for help with that, along with all of these unexpressed desires you’ve been holding onto—”

Emma must be wearing her kicked-puppy face because Regina softens, releasing from the tense posture she’s been maintaining.

“We won’t be seeing anyone ever again if we don’t figure out how to leave this place,” Emma mutters, and decides to change her fur cape and dress for clothing that is more practical – jeans, a long sleeve shirt and her leather jacket. 

The sky turns grey overhead, and the wind sweeps in dark rain clouds. “We can’t go back to your castle,” Emma states. “Everyone will think to look for us there. Where else can we go?”

Regina seems reluctant to abandon Robin, but she steps in close to Emma and a purple gust of magic whisks them away. 

Emma lands in a pile of hay, in a stall where horses must have once been kept. There are no animals here now, nor even traces of their scent—but heavy saddles still hang on the walls. 

Rain patters against the roof, and Emma thinks that they must have gone south. She doesn’t need to ask exactly where they are, because she recognizes the stable from Henry’s storybook and from Regina’s most private memories. 

“Going for a roll in the hay with you might have been on my secret wish list,” Emma mumbles under her breath, and then climbs out of the hay pile. 

Regina’s standing with her arms crossed in the doorway, and barely paying attention to her at all. 

“If we stay in this world, I’m going to be hunted down for murdering your parents,” Regina breathes, flexing her fingers agitatedly. “Perhaps you need to come to terms with whatever it is you aren’t facing in our world, and then a way out will present itself to us. Maybe a part of you is frightened because of the prophecy of your death—”

“That’s not it,” Emma stubbornly insists, although she’d rather die than admit the real reason they’re still hanging out here. “I’m not afraid to give up my life. I just don’t want Henry to mourn my loss, like he does with his Dad.”

“Then what is the problem, Emma?” Regina persistently asks, staring at her in that searching and perceptive way. 

“I don’t know,” she lies automatically, and lets her eyes wander down to Regina’s bottom lip. “It could be you and this whole evil queen thing. You know, it’s pretty weird that she’s hooking up with Henry’s grandfather.” 

“That—that is all about power,” Regina defensively argues, gesturing wildly as she makes her case. “She seduced the Dark one because it was the last card she had to play. The fact of the matter is that she could have chemistry with anyone, but who else would be her ally? However, I still don’t see why any of that would bother you.”

“It’s not that specifically,” Emma mutters, subtly licking her mouth. Truth be told, she hates that Regina’s other half is acting so lasciviously, but that’s not the actual issue. “It’s just that we encouraged you to rip out a part of yourself, and at the bottom of it, that’s really why we’re here. I think I feel guilty, because there are parts of me, too, that aren’t perfect. Parts of me that I hide away, parts of me that I hate. Of course it would be nice to get rid of some of the pain that comes from that, but I’d also be giving up a piece of who I am that is so vital. The evil queen is you, Regina, and I care about her, too. Even though she’s a little unhinged, I still sympathize with her. I know you’re convinced that you’re going to continue to be miserable if you hang onto her. But we shouldn’t have given up on her.”

Regina clutches at her elbows, and hugs her ribs. Her eyes shine with emotion, but she’s too choked up to speak. 

“Hey, she might be here,” Emma says, abruptly experiencing an epiphany. “I mean, my parents banished her—but maybe we can still find her, and make you whole again.” In the matter of a few minutes, she’s convinced herself this is the answer, but underneath it all, she knows there’s so much more to it than that. 

“We don’t have any idea how to reunite me with her,” Regina complains, although she’s not outright dismissing the plan. “Besides, the evil queen here is different. She’s not the twisted half that I left in Storybrooke.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Emma promises, and gently pats Regina’s arm, even if it feels like such an inadequate way to comfort her. “Either way, I think we should look for the queen. She might have some ideas on how to get back to our world. But for now, we need to re-gain our strength. Maybe we should just stay here over night—”

With her powers, Emma summons two thick bedrolls and heavy furs to keep them warm after nightfall. It’s not even two o’clock yet, but it’s pouring rain outside and they require time to figure out what they’re doing. “My parents in this world told me the story of the evil queen many times, and how they vanquished her,” she explains. “The queen must be somewhere in the northlands, from the way they described it. We’ll need a good map, and a means of traveling inconspicuously. Even though I’m still the princess, I’m not sure I could convince all of my parents’ loyal subjects that you aren’t the enemy. We should probably use disguises.”

“Disguises expend a lot of magical energy, which we may need if we get into a fight,” Regina points out, and folds her legs underneath her as she sits on one of the bedrolls. She’s stressed and giving into her usual anxious habits, like raking her fingers through her hair. 

“I don’t mean magical disguises,” Emma says, frowning as she flops back onto her own bedroll. “We can just pretend to be other people. I could dress up as a foreign prince or something, and you could be my consort. I’ve worn enough fairytale princess gowns to last me a whole extra lifetime.”

“What makes you think I want to masquerade as your consort?” Regina sniffs with a cranky scrunch of her nose. “Why don’t you masquerade as mine?”

“Even though you’re looking pretty dashing in your coat, I’ll give you two good reasons,” Emma boldly replies, but then becomes very shy as she raises her eyebrows and glances down at Regina’s chest. “If nothing else, they’ll make for a good distraction if we run into any more bandits.”

Regina catches her meaning, and shoots her a scathing look. “Fine,” she grates out. “It wouldn’t be the first time my cleavage has saved the day.”

Emma concentrates with her magic, and transforms their attire. She picks a soft leather suit with chainmail she can put on when they leave. 

For Regina, Emma’s selection seems almost to decide itself—and for an instant, she can only gape in surprise at the low-cut gown that materializes on Regina. 

“This dress looks like a red carpet scandal at the Grammy’s,” Regina snorts, as she unsuccessfully attempts to yank it up further. “If the neckline was any lower, you’d be staring at my navel.”

Emma certainly has no complaints—she’s still gazing on in slack-jawed awe. “I think it works for the role you’re playing,” she quietly insists, even though she totally has ulterior motives. 

“Am I supposed to be your consort, or your concubine?” Regina asks, tugging a fur around her bare shoulders. 

Emma blushes a deep shade of guilty red, but before she can make any revisions to the outfit, they hear a loud clamor of voices outside. 

She gets to her feet and peeks out through the slats in the stable door. It’s a pack of wolves like Ruby, who shift in and out of their forms at will. 

“I can smell her!” comes a boisterous, familiar voice, and then Granny appears, armed with a crossbow. 

“Time to go. One arrow through the shoulder is enough for today,” Emma declares, and it’s her turn to envelop Regina in radiant, white magic that carries them across the forest to the furthest point north that she’s capable of reaching. 

She’s out of breath when they tumble out of the air, and she falls on top of Regina. Her face is practically between Regina’s breasts, and the proximity flusters her so much that she forgets how to move. 

“These aren’t airbags,” Regina saucily quips. “Get off.”

Emma scrambles backward, unsure of whether to apologize or explain herself. “Sorry, I’m not the best at that. I’m still working out the kinks,” she huffs, shame-faced. 

“What did you say about kinks?” Regina teases, not for a moment giving up the chance to make a dig at her. “Something about your mommy issues?” 

Emma can only roll her eyes skyward, let the gibe go, and get back on her feet. “Maybe there’s a cave around here where we can hide until the storm passes,” she suggests, as she helps Regina up. 

“It might be better to travel through the night, especially since it seems all of your friends are already out looking for us,” Regina sighs. She brushes the dirt off of herself and spins around to get her bearings in this part of the forest.

They walk for a while in silence, until the sun begins to fade and it becomes harder to see without Regina lighting up a fireball in her palm. 

“It looks like there’s an inn off the road over there,” Emma notes, making the choice to venture in that direction. “I hardly slept last night, and a warm bed sounds a hell of a lot better than the cold, wet ground.”

It’s a risk to stop in this area, but Regina appears to agree with her. “You go in first, speak to the owner and request a room,” Regina instructs. “Then you can come get me, and we’ll go right up to bed.”

“Always pegged you for the type to want dinner first,” Emma smartly remarks, with a tiny smirk. “You’ve seen me in my underwear in the past, but at least you gave me an apple.”

“Actually, it was a whole basket of apples,” Regina muses, not at all put off by this verbal game they’re playing to go along with their new personas. “Now, go on ahead and don’t engage with anyone. No one is going to question you rushing me off to the bedroom when I’m wearing this. Just make sure to use your most manly stride—”

“Mock me all you want,” Emma grumbles, pulling herself up to her full height. “But don’t question my ability to perform.”

“Yes, well, don’t prematurely congratulate yourself on that,” Regina warns, sucking in a cheek and simultaneously quirking an eyebrow. “Although it does truly put you into character.”

Emma stalks off to the door of the inn, and stumbles inside a bit clumsily. There’s a burly man seated behind the bar, and just a few customers at the tables in the main room. 

“I need a room for the night,” Emma casually states, passing a bag of coins across the counter to the thick-armed man. He narrows his eyes at her, takes the money and says nothing as he gives her a key. 

“Thanks,” Emma mutters, and then saunters outside to find Regina. “Let’s go.” She places a hand on the small of Regina’s back, and together they step inside. They get about halfway to the stairs that lead up to the bedrooms, when Emma spots one of the dwarves. 

Happy gets up from his place at the window and walks over to Emma. “Excuse me,” he squeaks. “Don’t I know you?”

Before Emma can utter a word, Regina grabs her face and all but drags her into a kiss. Emma’s eyes widen as she feels Regina’s tongue in her mouth, and the intensity and heat of it all is both incredibly confusing and intoxicating. 

Of all the times she imagined this happening, she never pictured it unfolding quite like this. 

Happy turns pink with embarrassment and flees before Emma can say anything. Then Regina grips her firmly by the hand and guides her upstairs to their bedroom. 

“Looks like I just turned Happy into Bashful,” Regina growls, as she takes in the sight of the large bed at the center of the room. “And now you have yet another reason to seek out your therapist when you get home.” 

“After that kiss, I need church—not therapy,” Emma whispers, more to herself than Regina. She’s still reeling from what just took place, and she’s baffled by how Regina seems to perceive it – as if it’s not something Emma’s been craving for years. 

It makes Emma feel worse, even after such a high. “I guess I’m sleeping on the floor,” she concludes, glancing over at the bed. 

“I don’t normally share, but for you, I’m willing to make an exception,” Regina softly insists, and that is how they end up in bed together. 

It’s like Emma’s wish world is determined to grant her everything she’s always been too afraid to admit she’s wanted. But she’s too stiff and uncomfortable in bed next to Regina, mostly because she keeps thinking she’s going to accidentally roll over and do something stupid. 

The candle on the bedside table is still lit, and she watches the flame while Regina shifts around. 

Emma considers that maybe she’s been wrong about this whole vibe she’s always gotten from Regina. After all, they shared an impassioned kiss, and it didn’t seem to mean much to Regina.

“You’re a good kisser,” Emma reflects aloud. 

She’s not sure when she gave herself permission to speak, but she’s spoken loud enough that there’s no doubting Regina has heard her. 

But Regina doesn’t react, or acknowledge the suddenly strange energy between them. 

“Emma,” Regina whispers at last, and it seems like she might divulge a secret. She’s leaning over, and gazing longingly down at Emma. At the last second, she withdraws and all of the vulnerability that has been in her eyes begins to dim. “To be quite honest, I think you needed a breath mint.” 

The casual insult is so insincere, but it somehow lessens the pressure that Emma feels. She swats Regina lightly with a pillow, and finally finds it possible to relax. 

“At least we’re not camping out like that time in Neverland,” Emma concedes. “I promise I won’t breathe on you, so long as you promise not to hog all the covers.”

“I’ll make no such promises,” Regina husks, and tucks the pillow that Emma hurled at her behind her head. 

But in a way, they have just made a promise to each other—to continue being in denial and avoid broaching the subject that is constantly on Emma’s mind. 

Emma burrows contentedly into the blankets. She doesn’t overthink it—both can’t and won’t. 

It will take more than this to get them to be honest with each other, but she senses it’s coming—that it will be the inevitable completion of this long journey she’s shared with Regina. 

And for perhaps the first time, she believes in the power of her own wishes and hopes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T, for adult humor.

Emma has the vague impression that she's grinding herself against someone's backside. She's wearing a dopey grin, and her eyelids flutter in half wakefulness, but she can't seem to stop the gyrating, or the tender way she's nuzzling against her bedmate's neck. It takes her too long to realize that she's not dreaming, and that the person she's latched onto is Regina.

"Good morning to you, too," Regina groans, glaring down at Emma's freely wandering hands, and the rivulet of drool on her arm that unquestionably came from Emma. "So much for not breathing on me. I feel like you tried to give me a tongue bath."

She's thought of licking Regina in the past, but in her wildest fantasies she'd always received lots of praise for it.

"Speaking of baths," Regina softly continues, stretching out her limbs and spine. "I think I could actually use one. Not to get the dirt off. My magic can handle that. But just to get the tension out of my muscles."

Emma perks up, eager to volunteer her expert services. "I can help with that," she offers. "I don't like to brag, but I've been told I have magical fingers."

"I'm going to just assume that the person who told you that has seen you perform _actual_ magic, because most of the time you seem to have all the finesse of a jackhammer," Regina taunts, and her lips twist into the most ridiculing smile.

"At least if you're going to compare me to a tool, you might as well make use of me." Emma smirks slyly in return, enjoying her own private thoughts. "Come on, what's a massage between friends?"

What she would actually like to say is: _Hey, sometimes a jackhammer is exactly what someone needs. When was the last time you were relentlessly pounded?_

Much to Emma's surprise, Regina sits upright, faces the other direction and begins to shimmy down her dress. Emma scoots across the bed and carefully places her fingertips against Regina's shoulder blades. At first, she's too afraid to do more than gently knead.

"You can go harder than that," Regina sniffs in dissatisfaction, and then Emma really puts some force into it.

"Yes," Regina moans encouragingly, lifting her shoulders in clear pleasure. "Just like that. Nice and hard. Don't hold back on me."

Emma gasps, but does as she's told and gives Regina a thorough, deep tissue massage. "Yeah, feels good, doesn't it?" she asks, just for the sake of hearing Regina's answer.

"So good," Regina replies, with her eyes practically rolling back in her head and her lips parted in a way that seems very erotic to Emma. "So good, Em-ma."

When they finally emerge from the bedroom, they're both a little disheveled and out of sorts.

Even if there weren't many people here last night, the inn is shockingly crowded this morning with merchants in the midst of trading.

In her full coat of armor and burnished boots, Emma looks every bit a knight.

Regina, for her part, has an alluring disguise. She's altered her hair, and it hangs long and curly around her neck. The silken dress she's wearing fits her form perfectly, grabbing her curves in all the right ways.

Emma's a bit distracted by it, and so when the men at the bar whistle loudly at their approach, she doesn't notice it's because of her and Regina.

"That lad over there knows how to start his day," huffs a balding man, who reaches for a large leg of ham, as he inconspicuously points his thumb Regina and Emma's way. "Heard the girl moaning all morning long."

"Lad," the man grunts, standing up and greeting Emma with a handshake. "Let me buy you a pint. Pull up a seat with us."

Before Emma can say no, the man snags a chair for her and the barkeep passes her a brimming pint of ale. There's no extra seat for Regina, and so Emma does the only thing she can think to do: she pats her lap and waits for Regina to sit down.

"I'm Dan," the man gruffly states, and he's ogling Regina with undisguised lust whenever he's not gazing at Emma in admiration. "Are you newly weds?"

"We've been together for years, actually," Emma replies, because technically it's the truth—she's known Regina for years, anyway. "We have a son waiting on us at home."

"A son? Well, no doubt there's several more in the making for the two of you," Dan chuckles, cheerfully knocking his elbow into Emma's arm.

Regina has murder in her eyes, but for now she's content to keep quiet, though she does carefully grip Emma's thigh and squeeze in warning.

Unfortunately, it's a movement that catches Dan's notice, and the man mistakes it for a sign that Regina's into the conversation.

"It looks like the little lady agrees, lad," Dan grins, sweeping up his mug of ale and taking a long drink. "You might need to book your room for another day. She seems to be the insatiable type."

Regina is obviously contemplating wringing this man's neck, and Emma briefly stares on in worry before she has the clarity of mind to intervene.

"We actually have a long way to travel, so we'd better get going," Emma politely insists, setting down her own ale.

It's not like she can hit the man, given that they're trying not to attract attention to themselves.

"Nonsense," Dan mightily protests, and beckons over the gent at the bar. "Let me get the girl some tea first. And we'll all have a meal to fortify us for our journeys."

"I have no appetite now, thanks to you," Regina rasps under her breath, as she drives daggers into the man with her eyes.

"What was that?" Dan asks in confusion, and Emma thinks they're lucky that the man seems to be partially deaf.

"She said she worked up quite an appetite," Emma helpfully informs him, although Regina hits her hard on the arm for it.

"My husband prefers it when I'm rough with him," Regina claims, and then smacks Emma again to make a point. "Don't you, dear? You're enjoying all of this, aren't you?"

Emma tugs at the neck of her shirt to let out some of the heat of embarrassment. "You have no idea how much," she answers honestly.

Dan is all too amused by their antics, and he slides a cup of tea over to Regina as if in hopes of buttering her up. "There you are, pretty lady," he warmly coos. "Something to keep that fire inside of you going, especially on this cold day."

Regina's anger appears to dull now that there's tea in front of her, and she takes the time to pour cream and sugar into it. She mixes until the sugar dissolves, and then she does something almost pornographic with the spoon. Her lips close around it, and she keeps the teaspoon in her mouth far longer than necessary.

Emma swears that she can sense everyone around her staring, and all of their minds filling with impure thoughts. Or maybe it's just her.

Once they get back to Storybrooke, she's going to run up her tab at the diner just buying Regina tea.

"I had no idea you liked tea," Emma utters mindlessly, completely preoccupied with this revelation.

"Well, you have _a lot_ to learn about my preferences," Regina hisses irritably, and moves just a tad in Emma's lap.

Emma feels like she should take offense to that, but all she does is knit her eyebrows in bewilderment.

The barkeep delivers their food and Emma gazes at the eggs and the sausages on their plates.

"I'm definitely not eating that," Regina declares, sticking her nose in the air over the unsatisfactory choices.

"Really? Since when do you turn down sausage?" Emma asks in mocking disbelief, bitterly thinking of Robin and how easily he wheedled his way into Regina's life.

"Evidently when it's yours," Regina derisively rejoins, with a lazy blink of her long eyelashes.

Emma immediately starts to regret all of her wardrobe decisions. She's peeved for many more reasons than she'd care to admit, and finds herself picking up her mug to down what remains in it. As soon as the alcohol hits her bloodstream, she knows instantly that she'd fail any sobriety test.

"It's been our pleasure chatting with you," Regina scathingly tells Dan, and then loops one arm under Emma's to hoist her up. "But we need to be getting on the road."

Dan appears disappointed, but he waves them off and yells out, "I hope our paths cross again one day!"

Emma shuffles to the door with Regina's assistance, but as soon as they get outside, Regina releases her.

"When we decided to play dress up, I had no idea you'd pretend to be someone less intelligent just to fit in," Regina exhales, with both hands on her hips and a troubled gleam in her eyes. "You're lucky I know who you really are, or I'd slap you."

Emma hangs her head in self-reproach, and stiffens her jaw reactively. "I think you hit me enough, but you're right. I said some pretty stupid things, and for that, I'm sorry."

Still aggravated, Regina stands with her arms over her chest. Her resolve to be angry only melts when she glances back at Emma.

"Hey," Emma smoothly transitions, before either of them can initiate a more serious chat. "Do you know of any spells that will fix the hangover I'm bound to have later? I already feel a bit queasy."

"None come to mind," Regina considers uncertainly.

"So you can heal deadly flesh wounds, and cast sleeping curses, but you can't do anything to sober me up a bit?" Emma childishly whines, already feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on.

"Magic doesn't fix stupidity," Regina scoffs, pacing the ground with a restless energy, though Emma can detect the sympathy and worry in the woman's face. "And even if it could, where would the lesson be in that?"

No matter how dire the circumstances, Emma can always rely on Regina to take the tough love approach with her when she behaves foolishly.

She scuffs her boots in the dirt as she crosses around to the back of the inn, where there's a stable with two dappled horses. Nearby, a man perches on a tree stump and sharpens a long broadsword.

"Are these your horses?" Emma asks him, doing her best to come off as someone both intimidating and business savvy. "I'll give you this pouch of gold for them."

The man chews two blades of grass, and spits into the mud as he deliberates.

The Enchanted Forest is worse than home when it comes to masculine behavior and hygiene.

"What else will you trade me?" the man sneers, as though intuitively guessing at her desperation.

"Giving you all of this gold is more than a fair deal," Regina pipes in, not for a second allowing Emma to be swindled. "Take it, or leave it."

Emma's prepared to wait it out, but the man snatches the change purse from her, and pockets it. She wastes no time in sealing the exchange by seizing the reins of the two horses.

Regina holds her hand out to one of the animals to let the mare become familiar with her scent, and brushes out the snarls in the horse's tail before swinging into its saddle.

Emma mimics the other woman's actions to make ready for the road.

After the horses have eaten the remainder of the oats in their feed buckets, she and Regina ride off into the woods.

"We still need a map, but my guess is that this journey will take a few days." Emma shouts over the constant sound of hoof beats. "All that matters is that we're headed in the right direction."

"I wouldn't say that's all that matters," Regina yells back, glancing over her shoulder at Emma. "We need to stay off the roads, and there are dangers deeper in the forest."

She can't put much stock into Regina's warning, since it's a beautiful day and there's no sign of any lurking perils. The skies are clear with wispy clouds that stretch like cotton glued to a child's picture.

There's just one problem. Somehow, in spite of all the false memories she has of this growing up in this world, Emma still feels like an inexperienced rider. She jerks back and forth as her horse follows Regina's at a gallop. In her tipsy condition, she fails to duck under a low hanging tree branch. Hitting her head sends her into a spin, and she tumbles backward out of her saddle.

Before her body makes impact with the ground, she's engulfed by the essence of Regina—such pure, emotional magic, which delicately lays her out on the forest floor.

Regina slides effortlessly from her saddle and bends over Emma.

With double vision, Emma gazes up at her and sluggishly raises a hand to Regina's face. They are so close to each other, and it would be easy to press her mouth against Regina's, and request a redo of their rushed but sultry kiss from yesterday.

"You might want to be more careful with your head," Regina muses, and purses her lips together as she leans fully into Emma. "You're a Charming. You can't afford to lose anymore brain cells."

Emma wraps her arms around Regina's back, not at all hindered by the splitting pain in her forehead. She goes in for the kiss, already anticipating that moment when her mouth will communicate all of the desires she's hidden. But her aim is terribly off, and she ends up getting a mouthful of Regina's hair instead.

"Don't move," Regina commands, and gingerly inspects the cut on her brow.

Magic funnels through Regina's fingertips, and as it passes into the injury, Emma stays motionless. She's never experienced this before, and the deep connection she has with Regina intensifies as she heals.

"I can feel you," Emma breathlessly whispers, too dazed to filter herself, or do much more than stare.

Even concussed, she's still absolutely certain that what emanates from Regina is love.

Regina holds her by the wrist, unwilling to break physical contact with her, but also still abiding by the strange boundaries they've forever kept in place. "You're going to be fine," she emphasizes. "Perhaps in part because of that thick skull of yours."

Emma careens forward, but sits in a slouch instead of standing up. "Yeah, I'm an idiot," she huffs. "I got it."

She's angry with herself for always mistaking Regina's concern for something more.

She'd continue to sit there feeling sorry for herself all day, if not for the whoosh of a feathered dart that zips by her, and lands in the soft earth. Three mischievous pixies simultaneously peek out from the branches above them.

Together, the pixies cast a heavy net that instantly knocks Regina down and covers them both. With another rapid puff on his blow dart, one of the pixies hits Regina, and she falls limp on top of Emma.

Before she can react, Emma realizes there's a palpating sting in her leg, too. All she can do before passing out is secure her arms tightly around Regina's back.

When she comes to, Emma's wrists are bound together and there are thick ropes around her middle that tie her to Regina. They're in a cave behind a waterfall, and under the loud rushing sound of water, she can hear the pixies screech and snicker.

"Little bastards," Emma grunts, struggling with her restraints and noting that they are impervious to magic.

Regina shifts and groans behind Emma, awakened by her rash movements.

"Pixies," Regina spits furiously.

"Why can't we use our magic?" Emma complains, jerking around to see if she can loosen the bindings the old fashioned way. She thinks her entire wish world has been designed as a cruel joke, just to torment her.

"Pixies have a powerful influence on magic," Regina rasps out impatiently. "They can even speed up the production of pixie dust, but they're a nuisance to everyone, including themselves. They frequently fight one another. They'll even fight to the death over mating disputes."

"Maybe they have the right idea," Emma states under her breath, wondering if things would have turned out differently had she pursued Regina at the same time as Robin. "So what do you think they want from us?"

"They usually only go after people in highly emotional states, because magic is emotion," Regina broodingly explains.

"So this is your fault, because you were worried about me," Emma blurts, quick to put the blame on Regina before she can point a finger at her.

"My fault?" Regina asks indignantly, pulling sharply at the ropes. "If you had watched where you were going, we would have been halfway to the next village by now."

"I was watching!" Emma growls in wide-eyed protest.

"And if that doesn't tell me all I need to know about your powers of observation, nothing does," Regina mutters testily. "If you can't even notice the glaringly obvious, there's no hope."

"It could be worse," Emma reasons, although she thinks they may have to roll themselves out of there. But she'll be damned before this becomes the first time she presses her body into Regina's, and forcefully pushes back and forth until she's sweaty and winded. "Let's just stop arguing and work out a plan," she demands.

Just as she starts searching the cave floor for any sharp object, the pixies pop into view and sneer at her with their jagged teeth. Each pixie wears a thorny flower crown, and it's hard to distinguish a leader amongst them. Squabbling in their own peculiar language, they step up to prod Regina with the ends of their walking sticks. Regina thrashes and makes a soft, pained sound through gritted teeth, unable to do much to defend herself.

Emma tries to kick the sticks out of their hands, but the tiny monsters evade her attack. "Leave her alone!" she growls, and that really gets their attention. All of them turn to her in synchrony and approach with slow, deliberate strides.

For a second, she thinks they're about to make her into a shish kebab, but instead they join hands in a circle around her and begin to sing.

The melody is shrill, but oddly soothing enough to calm her, and she concludes that they're somehow absorbing her extreme emotion.

"There are two approaches we can try," Regina proposes, as she takes a deep breath and whispers to Emma. "One is slightly therapeutic – you tell me what's bothering you at this current moment, and in return, I'll share with you. The other involves pitting these little lunatics against each other, and watching them tear themselves to shreds."

"Second option," Emma decides automatically. For some reason, the thought of opening up emotionally makes her picture scenes from movies where characters stumble across skeletons in the backs of caves. She imagines someone years from now discovering her skeleton in this very spot. "This will be Lord of the Flies, Part II. Chapter one was Neverland. So, how is this going to work?"

"To incite jealousy, we're going to have to use the pixie mating call, or present one of them with a gift," Regina instructs, subtly moving her wrist against Emma's hand.

"That's all you, Regina," Emma huffs, far too candidly. "Make them jealous. You're a pro at that."

"Me?" Regina asks, her tone high-pitched and denying. "What are you talking about?"

"I meant, like—with Zelena," Emma hurriedly amends, as if she hadn't been remembering all of those times that Regina paraded around town, playing 'happy family' with the forest hobo, and his offspring. "You had no trouble riling Zelena up."

"Zelena is envious of me, not jealous," Regina grunts, her eyebrows clenching together in frustration. "Your vocabulary is almost as bad as your morning breath."

Regina slides what feels like a small piece of metal up and down Emma's palm. "Here, we'll use this," she offers. "I can't move my hands, but maybe you can help pull the ring off my finger."

Emma can just manage it, though only after some awkward fumbling with Regina's hand.

She waits until one of the pixie freaks looks straight at her, and then chucks the ring at him. It's a bad throw because of how restricted Emma is, but the ring still rolls into place right at the pixie's feet. She doesn't get a good look at it until the pixie snatches it up and she can see the blue-green stone in the light. "Don't you have a sentimental attachment to that?" she asks. "I hope it's replaceable."

"It's not. I bought it long ago," Regina mutters, almost inaudibly, because of the overpowering, enraged shrieks from the pixies. "It was a promise to myself—that no matter what, I would never stop searching for happiness. At the time, I believe I wore it as a reminder to stay angry, but now I know better. Either way, it served its purpose, and I don't need it anymore."

Emma immediately senses that Regina's lying, and this sacrifice actually does weigh on her.

Since about the time she arrived in Storybrooke, Emma hasn't seen the ring, and she's only recently noticed Regina wearing it again, even if the woman occasionally slips it out of sight and into her pocket.

But Emma doesn't have the opportunity to consider what it all means.

As soon as one of the pixies drops his blade within her reach, she lunges to grab it.

Emma fits the blade into the space between them and cuts the ropes with a too-fast motion that requires Regina to put a lot of trust her.

"I know you're into that look, but thank you for not chopping off my hand," Regina states, as she undoes her bindings and gracefully rises from the cave floor.

The pixies are crawling all over each other in an effort to get the ring, and they pay no mind to Emma as she wriggles out of the remaining ropes.

She and Regina would be free to leisurely walk out of the cave, but there's still the waterfall – and Emma's magic is inaccessible to her, even if she's feeling too many emotions to count.

She stands at the edge of the rock face with Regina, and they don't bother to speak. They're going to risk taking a leap together – they both instinctively know it, and clasp hands in readiness for the fall.

Emma only hopes this isn't the only kind of leap they will ever take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments spurred on a burst of creativity last week. I'd like to continue the momentum I've had with writing this story, and I hope my brain cooperates. Was it too silly? Not enough action? I have some ideas worked out for the future chapters, which could be quite serious emotional moments for them, but I'm also enjoying bringing levity and snark to this story. 
> 
> Thank you for any feedback you might leave, and I hope you enjoyed!


	3. Chapter 3

The plunge is much deeper than Emma expects, but her grip on Regina never breaks as they go down together. On the way up, Emma accidentally sucks in a lot of water, and she coughs riotously as she reaches the surface. She chokes harder as she realizes her hand is on Regina’s ass, and tries to remove it hastily, but she’s not fast enough. 

“That’s _not_ a floatation device,” Regina gasps, though she only ends up clinging to Emma as they both tread water. 

“The next time I’m drowning, I’ll be sure to check that out first,” Emma huffs, as she forces air into her lungs and swims. “At least you don’t have to worry about resuscitating me.” 

Emma paddles over to the edge of the bank with Regina close beside her. Sunshine beats down on them and leaves Emma with a pleasant feeling of warmth on her skin. Even as soaked as she is, she still appreciates the scenery and the unexpected heat. 

“If not for the pixie infestation, this would be a great place to take a vacation,” She pants, throwing herself back on the grass to gaze up at the cloudy blue sky. “All that we need are a couple of cocktails, and a big beach umbrella.”

“You’ve already had your cocktail for the day, but if you want shade, I’m always happy to throw some your way,” Regina smirks, her eyes glinting with mischief. 

Emma sits upright and squints at Regina, wearing her usual, confounded expression. She’s about to say something, but then she notices just how sheer the Regina’s dress is when completely drenched. Swallowing thickly, she lets her eyes rove down to Regina’s chest. “Hey, um--we should probably cover you up a bit, so you’re not giving anyone a free show--”

“Funny how you’re suddenly concerned about my modesty,” Regina rasps, not at all pardoning Emma for her earlier behavior. “What happened to using me as a distraction?”

“I mean—it’s been successful,” Emma mutters, unable to function or glance away from the shape of Regina’s body, which is so clearly outlined. “Super successful,” she quietly adds, feeling her tongue go dry. 

With a fast wave of her hand, she changes Regina into new clothes that conceal more than before. Regina raises an eyebrow at the conservative dress that hides her from head to toe. It instantly reminds Emma too much of one of Snow’s matronly ensembles. 

Before Regina can make any more jokes about the issues she has with her mother, Emma chooses a replacement gown that can hardly be considered an improvement on the original. The dress exposes far more of Regina than it conceals. 

“There,” Emma announces, with a gesture of pride. “That’s perfect. Like you said before, no one will stop to ask you questions.”

“Oh, I agree,” Regina lilts, gazing downward and seeing only skin. “And if they do, the only question they’ll be asking me now is: ‘how much’?”

Emma blushes scarlet, but tries to play off her embarrassment by changing the subject. “Speaking of money, we don’t have any left. I spent the last of it on those horses, and I’m pretty sure they ran off.”

“So, we’ll borrow some gold,” Regina insists, fiddling with her fingers in a way that suggests thievery. 

“You want to rob someone?” Emma balks, although her mind is already churning with the ideas of where they could pick their mark. 

“Magically,” Regina elaborates, because Emma’s too slow on the uptake. “It’s conjuring, like you did with these outfits. If you view it as stealing, you technically just stole the clothes off someone’s back. But fortunately that person was wearing very little to begin with, so I doubt it makes much difference.”

“No wonder this set of armor smells kind of weird,” Emma frowns and crinkles her nose as she sniffs the front of her vest. “Some sweaty guy must have been wearing it.”

“I actually think that odor is coming from you,” Regina speculates, but the smells aren’t bad enough to prevent her from sitting down beside Emma. “You’ve been very flushed all day.”

“Yeah, I’ve been pretty hot and bothered,” Emma agrees, swiping her tongue over her bottom lip in excitement. “I mean—like, irritated…aggravated, and god, _so frustrated_.”

“Let me take care of all your frustrations, then,” Regina states assertively, and places a hand on top of Emma’s shoulder. 

For a second, Emma is so convinced that this will be it – that this is the moment she’s been waiting for, and she’s going to finally get some action right in this spot by the waterfall. 

But Regina just casually flicks her wrist, and Emma realizes her clothes have been exchanged for a thinner shirt, a gleaming helm, and protective but lightweight armor. 

“There you are,” Regina declares, briefly admiring her handiwork with pursed lips before standing up. 

“I had no idea I’d be this disappointed the first time you took off my clothes,” Emma mumbles inaudibly, and she jerks up from the ground, only feeling that her frustration has been amplified. 

Regina’s already moved on from their previous conversation. “You know, we aren’t that far from Cinderella’s castle,” she states, pointing in the direction of the pine trees to the west. “We can probably find a map in her library.” 

“Why don’t we save ourselves the trip, and just magic one up?” Emma grumpily demands. 

“Have I taught you nothing? My magic still feels a bit off from our run-in with the pixies. And we need gold, supplies for the road, a map, and horses,” Regina lists, making it quite clear that what Emma is asking happens to be a tall order. “We should be able to acquire half of those items through magic. As for the rest, we’ll have to resort to theft. I hope we can find a carriage for what remains of our journey. The easiest way to be inconspicuous is not to be seen at all--”

“Well, what if I burst into a rendition of ‘bibbity bobbity boo’ – what will that get us?” Emma sniffs, hoisting herself off the ground as though she truly intends to sing. 

“For me, a throbbing headache,” Regina scoffs, already striking out into the forest. “For you – the eternal shame of living up to all of your mother’s expectations as a true Disney princess who wants all of her problems solved by magic.”

Emma scrunches her nose at the unappealing idea of that. “Yeah, okay, fair point. Let’s go hustle Cinderella.” 

It’s a long enough walk that her feet are aching and sore by the time they get to the outskirts of the village that surrounds Cinderella’s castle. There’s something sticky on her hand, and she thinks it must be sap from trudging through all of the trees. 

When she reaches out to stop Regina from stepping onto a main road, her fingers stick to the woman’s skin. 

Regina glances down at the goopy sap first and then glares at her. “Keep your sticky fingers to yourself,” she hisses too loudly. 

“I have been,” Emma groans under her breath. “For three long years!” 

In their distraction, neither of them realizes how their noise and movement in the trees alerts a group of men on the road to their presence. 

“What have we here?” barks a thick man with a shaven head and a colorful tattoo on his neck, as he pushes through the foliage. “A pup, and his _harlot_ —”

Emma tries to expand her chest to make herself look more muscular and less like a young man in too much armor. She flexes her buff arms for the added effect, and to warn him that she will strike if he steps closer. “She’s my _wife_ ,” she fiercely snarls. “Not everyone has to pay for it, but then again with a face like yours, I can see why you’d think that—“

The man bursts into laughter at her attempts to show off her strength, but pulls a straight face at Emma’s smart retort. Behind him stand a dozen men, all with battleaxes and armor, who chuckle over Emma’s remark. 

Regina gazes at Emma with eyes full of appreciation, and only recovers herself as the men start to encroach. 

“Jonas, don’t toy with them,” warns a fair-haired man with princely features. “They are at our mercy.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Regina husks darkly. Her hand trembles as she tries to create a fireball, but her magic only forms a single wavering flame that Jonas blows out like a candle. 

“This one is a budding sorceress, it seems,” Jonas snickers, then kisses up Regina’s wrist, and chuckles when she attempts to pull away from him. 

“Let her go!” Emma firms her jaw in anger, and summons a powerful blast of magic, but it backfires and she falls on her ass. To the gathering of men, it just looks like she’s clumsy, and they all share a laugh at her expense. “Who are you?” she spits. “And what do you want from us?” 

“Robin Hood and his bandits ransacked the castle last night, and earlier this morning in a village nearby, two thieves stole the horses and jewelry that belonged to some of the Queen’s highest ranking soldiers,” reports the fair-haired man. “We are the mercenaries that Queen Cinderella has called upon to clear out the riff-raff.”

So, inadvertently, it seems that she and Regina might have already stolen some horses. And it figures that Robin Hood would always be one step ahead of Emma, taking everything she wants—even in her own wish realm. 

“We could run you through with a sword, boy, but you’d make a fine challenger for our sport,” Jonas sniffs, giving Emma a meaningful once-over. “We’d prefer to see you fight for your life. If you win, we’ll even give you back your woman.” 

Jonas acts immediately, seizing Regina and binding her wrists with chains. 

“Get off me!” Regina grumbles, kicking and throwing her full weight around. She doesn’t make it easy on them—but they just seem to find humor in her resistance. 

Emma’s on her feet in an instant, and lunging for Jonas, even though she doesn’t have a weapon. But the men just fling her away, and pass Regina towards a wagon with a human-sized cage on it, where other prisoners are already huddled. 

“Our arena is to the northwest of here. Be there by sundown,” Jonas snaps out at her. 

The men all climb onto their wagons, and Regina stands with her hands gripping the bars of her cage. “Swan!” she yells. “Do something! Our combined magic—” She reaches out with her fingers, desperate to connect with Emma, but their usual synergy just isn’t there. 

“I can’t!” Emma helplessly cries, and takes off running after the wagon. “I’ll fight for you, Regina! Don’t be afraid! I’m going to fight for you!” 

Regina strains to touch Emma, and their fingertips barely meet. All Emma feels is the smallest of magical sparks, coming from the deepest place of longing within her. Then Jonas takes his whip and lands a hard blow on Emma’s back. She recoils and drops into the mud while the wagon wheels keep rolling. 

Without any choice but to drag herself up from the ground and continue walking, Emma does exactly that. She tries to keep up with the caravan, but the group soon travels around a bend in the road, and out of her line of sight. 

The sun sinks behind the hills, yet Emma’s sense of urgency drives her onward until she comes upon the mercenaries’ settlement. Instead of torches, the encampment is lit up by bright bonfires that turn out to be funeral pyres. 

The men from earlier are gathered at the edge of a deep pit, which is ringed by sharp stakes. The group is in the midst of a feast when Emma approaches. Jonas holds a leg of mutton and gnaws the meat from the bone. 

Not far away, Regina sits in chains, seething over her predicament. She appears to be focused on Jonas, as if willing him to choke on every mouthful of his dinner. 

Emma scouts the area before getting any closer. Near the funeral pyres, she finds a bunch of discarded clothing and searches the pile for anything she could use as a weapon. There’s a blunt but broken club, and a small dagger. She tucks them out of sight in her trousers, and then moves in on the arena. 

“Looks like I made it just in time for dinner,” Emma cockily announces, and sits beside Jonas. “What are we having?” She rips the leg of mutton out of Jonas’ hands, and takes a big bite just to rile him.

Regina perks up when she spots Emma, and even smiles over the bold display. 

Jonas, on the other hand, is much less pleased. He snatches the meat back with a growl. “You’re either the biggest fool in all the land, or you have balls the size of a bull, and we’re going to find out in that arena, boy.”

“We are?” Emma asks in mock surprise. “I thought you planned to fight me. But if that’s your thing, I know another _tattooed guy_ who might just be your type--”

Before Emma can pour herself a drink, Jonas’ men surround her and march her down the path to the fighting pit. The gruff mercenaries toss her down on the ground and then go to collect payment from the arriving spectators. 

Jonas takes charge of Regina, and pulls her along to a place of honor that is within view of the fight—presumably, so she can watch Emma die.

“We are going to test your man’s vigor and endurance, my dear,” Jonas chortles, clapping his hands together idiotically. 

“I have no doubt that he’ll outlast all of you,” Regina croons darkly, with an amused smirk. “I’ve certainly never had complaints about his ability to go several rounds.”

Emma overhears the remarks, and even though it’s all a fiction meant to taunt Jonas, she’s still delighted by it anyway. It’s a complete turn around from what Regina said earlier that morning, and Emma raises her shoulders almost arrogantly as she prepares herself for combat. 

“You hear that, boy?” Jonas rumbles boisterously. “Your bitch brags on your behalf. Let’s see if she really knows what you’re made of – ”

The spectators start to crowd around the arena and clamor for the event to begin. In spite of all their eager voices that demand her attention, Emma can only look at Regina. She sees complete trust and faith in Regina’s eyes—there’s not even a glimmer of fear. 

It makes Emma feel confident in a way she hasn’t felt in a long time. She’s so focused on Regina that she doesn’t glance over her shoulder when the gate around the pit opens. 

There are soft growls of warning that come from behind her, and she has just enough time to grab for the dagger in her trousers before the first beast lunges at her. She drives the blade through the monster’s skull, and it bursts into dust around her. The second beast has long fangs, and wings, and a lion’s head. 

As she spins to stare at it, Jonas throws a sword into the arena to make the fight more interesting. “Hopefully you know how to use this, boy!” he yells. “Though it might be too big for you! Much bigger than what you’re used to handling anyway!” He waggles his brows suggestively at her and laughs uproariously.

Emma chucks the dagger at him in return. “Here, this should work for you, then!” she calls. Then she snatches up the sword, and slashes the blade through the air a few times to keep the beast at bay. But the animal’s trainer calls the beast back, and Emma realizes this is only the floorshow before the main match. 

A grungy man with a scarred and empty eye-socket is next up. He sneers at her in a way that makes it clear he’s excited about the prospect of running her through with his sword. “I will cut out your heart!” he declares, and the crowd cheers for him. 

“Sure, because my heart hasn’t been through enough lately,” Emma huffs, and dodges his first attempt to gouge her. She circles around him with her blade raised, and then bounces away when he rushes her for a quick takedown. He’s taller and each time he swings, he angles his jagged scimitar as if he means to pin her to the earth. 

“Oh, the challenger is fast footed!” Jonas whoops, to rile up the crowd and to throw Emma off. “But he can’t keep up this pace forever!”

With all of the jeers and taunts of the crowd, Emma misses a step and her opponent knocks her back. He comes in for the final blow again, but she parries him and then slashes at the weak point in his armor. It’s deep enough to make him gush bright blood and think twice about continuing the fight. 

Emma survives three more rounds against Jonas’ most seasoned warriors before the man himself steps into the arena. By this time, Emma is so worn out that when she exhales, all of the air goes out of her lungs and she can’t seem to catch her breath again.

Jonas gives her a yellow scowl, showing off every one of his discolored teeth. “How did a such scrawny, squid-for-brains moron like you get a woman like that?” he grunts, eyeballing Regina. “After you lose, I’ll offer your wife the choice: we can either put her head on the same spike as yours, or she can give herself to me.”

The thought of Jonas going anywhere near Regina is instantly riling. Rage flashes through Emma’s eyes, and she drives her sword against her enemy’s blade. She disarms him with a well-timed, circular swing of her weapon, and then leaps at him recklessly. In an instant, she topples him to the ground and drives her knuckles into his face – once, twice, and then again for the hell of it. 

His nose spurts blood everywhere, and he uses his ruffled sleeve to soak it up. 

It’s only when Emma is within this close range that she notices his rings and the familiar pale blue of his eyes. “Jonas… Jones,” she mutters. “Killian?”

“Aye,” grunts the injured man. He has two good hands in this reality, which he uses to push down on the bridge of his nose. “No one has called me that in years. Do I know you?”

Emma withdraws in shock, open-mouthed and disturbed. “No,” she replies. “But I know you. And you’re right—I have been a complete squid-for-brains moron.”

Perhaps it’s unfair to condemn Hook for the behaviors of this man, who is not quite the same—but hearing the way this stranger talks about Regina is what puts matters in perspective for her. She’s not sure why his vile remarks never made an impression on her in the past, except that they were directed at her most of the time.

For Emma’s entire life, she’s been thick-skinned and easygoing, which has allowed her to be more forgiving than most. If she’s honest with herself, her low self-esteem also has something to do with her willingness to forgive Hook. His main appeal, above all else, is that he pursued her. There’s no risk of him ever leaving, and she’s stayed in the relationship simply because there’s security in that. _Everyone else has always left, or died._

But now she sees Jonas, and thinks of Killian—and it leaves her with a stomach-twisting realization. “This is who you really are, isn’t it?” Emma asks. “You’re not going to change for me.”

He appears confused, but before he can say anything more, his men circle around them both and Emma recognizes she’s made a grave mistake in having this little chat. 

Emma’s eyes dart straight to Regina. Then the mercenaries drag her up from the ground and shove her towards a block of wood where an axe is resting. 

“Bring the woman down to say her goodbyes!” shouts Jonas. 

Two muscular men carry out the orders, and Emma can tell just from looking that Regina is straining to get her magic working. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Emma automatically states, but she’s beginning to doubt it. “Right, Regina? What do we do now?”

Regina falls in the dirt next to her, and immediately reaches out for Emma. “Don’t let go of my hands,” she commands. “I need you, Emma. Focus. I need to feel you.” There is so much sincerity in those words that it startles them both. “Being connected to you will reawaken my magic.”

Emma holds on tightly, but a man grabs her by the scruff of the shirt to pull her away. He hauls her through the dust, even as she twists in defiance. “Can’t,” she groans, as the man pulls her face down over the gritty earth. “I’m sorry, Regina!” 

The mercenaries place her head over the block of wood. 

“Any last words?” taunts the man who clutches the execution axe. 

Emma cranes her neck to see Regina, and coughs to clear her throat of dust. The gleaming axe is still in the corner of her eye, but all she can do is continue gazing at Regina. 

Even though Regina is staring back at her sadly, Emma tries to imagine the other woman with a wide grin on her face. 

“You know, you have a great laugh, and the most amazing smile,” Emma suddenly chokes out, blinking as tears sting her eyes. “There’s nothing I want more than for you to be happy, Regina. You are the best mother to Henry that I ever could have asked for, and the only person who truly sees me for who I am. Being with you and the kid is exactly what I always imagined having a family would feel like. I know it was difficult at first, but it’s everything I ever wanted. You gave me that without even knowing. If I have to die today, then at least I died defending you.” 

The executioner laughs at that, but just as he’s about to lop off Emma’s head, violet cyclones gather around them.

In the protective cloud, Emma slips her arms around Regina. Magic floats around them caressingly, spiriting them far away to safety. Their embrace lasts for a while, until long after the forest appears around them. 

“Did you really mean what you said?” Regina asks, with a small, tight-lipped smile that really comes more from her eyes. “About me, and Henry?”

This would be a good time to be honest, but Emma lets her nerves get the better of her. “No,” she snorts sarcastically. “I just thought I’d buy myself some time by giving a long winded speech.” 

At the very least, she expects the remark will make Regina laugh, or say something witty. 

But Regina only squints at her, cants her head and then stalks off. 

“Wait,” Emma calls out, full of immediate regret and self-reproach. “Regina, hey, what’s wrong? I was only kidding around.”

Regina sets up a camp-site for them, and ignores Emma. She begins conjuring, and soon there’s a roaring fire between them, and sleeping furs that are placed far apart. 

“Shouldn’t we sleep next to each other for body warmth?” Emma asks, though the suggestion only appears to make Regina angrier. 

“I’m not in the mood to give you any kind of warmth right now,” Regina husks, and begins folding back the sable fur that’s furthest away from Emma. 

“Is this the enchanted forest equivalent to banishing me to the couch? So much for doing your wifely duties,” Emma jokes, desperate to get a chuckle out of Regina—but that only earns her a scornful look. 

“Did you forget that I killed my first husband?” Regina hisses, and Emma can tell immediately that she’s crossed a line. The vein in the woman’s forehead pushes outward, and her eyes gleam with so much hurt that Emma comes to a full stop. 

“No. Actually, after you split yourself in two, I read the storybook to find out more about who you were as the queen,” Emma admits, and then crouches down beside Regina with an apologetic sigh. “Look, Regina. What I said back there—all of it was true. Especially the part about family.” 

Regina stares at the ground, and keeps her shoulders defensively raised. But then she exhales heavily, and shares a brief glance with Emma. “On the subject of family - I wonder how our son is faring without us,” she whispers. “If we don’t get home soon, he’s going to think I’ve failed you.” 

“You know that’s not true,” Emma gently argues, and finds herself sitting down on the fur beside Regina. “Henry would never stop believing in you. We’ve just been having bad luck. Maybe this wish world isn’t meant to give me everything I ever wanted. It might just be showing me that there are trade-offs—that I should appreciate what I have in Storybrooke, and that I need to get my priorities straight.”

“I’ve always thought that your priorities _were_ straight,” Regina muses, and glances sideways as she sucks in her bottom lip. 

_Not tonight, Regina._

Emma blinks rapidly, but thankfully the words that occur to her aren’t the ones that she speaks aloud. “You thought wrong,” she murmurs, and then stands up to retrieve her own sleeping furs. “Do you mind if I move these over there?”

Regina lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “I’ll let you do whatever you want, so long as you stoke my fire.” She pauses for an instant before clarifying. “I’m cold.”

Emma glances around and creases her brow in confusion. “What am I going to poke it with?” 

While Emma wanders around in search of a fallen branch, Regina smirks and makes herself comfortable in her furs. “Oh, I trust you’ll figure something out,” she hums. “And be quick about it. I’m freezing.”

Emma gathers up extra firewood, and picks up a long stick to tend the fire. The flames consume her kindling, and give off pleasant waves of heat, but Regina’s teeth are chattering. 

“Oh, hey, let me warm you up,” Emma offers, and then settles in next to Regina. 

She’s not sure what inspires her to act, but her ideas must come from watching too much television. She stretches her arms above her head and then casually slides one around the other woman. Without even thinking, she moves her palm down cautiously and grasps Regina, squeezing ever so slightly. 

Regina stays very still, but her face changes to reflect her curiosity. “Emma,” she says at last. “Why are you holding my hand?”

Emma stares down at her hand and blushes, then realizes with mortification that this isn’t even the move she intended to make. Without being totally aware of it, she had been aiming much higher, and in retrospect she’s glad that she only managed to do something innocent. “There’s a reason,” she insists, even if she’s currently blanking on it. 

“What’s the reason?” Regina asks, with a touch of amusement in her voice. “You look frightened.”

Sharing her emotions makes her panic, and Emma’s eyes go wide with terror. “I’m worried you’ll think it’s stupid, and then you’ll mock me forever over it,” she truthfully admits. “And it’s not like I can just stop talking to you if that happens.”

“I promise not to mock you,” Regina intones, although she rolls her eyes at her own partial lie. “Okay, maybe I _will_ mock you, but certainly not forever. Just tell me – what is it?”

“I’m scared,” Emma confesses, and cringes over how ridiculous she already sounds and feels. “I’m – scared of the dark. _Yeah,_ that’s my problem. I know we’ve camped out before, but I don’t like being in the woods at night. I’m more of a city person.”

She wonders if her fib sounds believable enough, and risks meeting Regina’s eyes to see if the woman seems convinced. 

“Now that my magic has been fully restored, I’m probably the most frightening thing in this forest, so you have nothing to worry about,” Regina assures her. 

“That’s definitely true,” Emma hastily agrees. She’s terrified Regina is going to laugh in her face, and that after she’s rejected, this whole relationship that they’ve worked so hard to build will be jeopardized. 

Regina only glares at her, and it takes Emma a minute before she realizes how what she said could be perceived as insulting. But all she does is roll over in embarrassment and say, “Okay. Well, goodnight--” 

Except, Regina is already channeling white magic -- letting it flow from her fingertips and outward into their little clearing. The magic creates a circle of enchanted paper lanterns around them. 

“There,” Regina announces, and reaches out to take Emma’s hand again. “Henry used to be afraid of the dark. When he was younger, I kept a colorful lantern near his bedside.” She gazes down at their interlocking fingers. “I’ve always seen so much of you in him.” 

Emma is taken aback by Regina’s attempts to comfort her. “He takes after you, too,” she whispers. “We both know that sharp wit wasn’t inherited.”

That gets a smile out Regina, and she lies down with Emma to look up at the starry sky. 

They’re still holding hands, and instead of worsening her anxiety, it actually soothes Emma. 

“Just so you know,” Regina softly begins, “all of the things you said before – I feel the same way as you do. Obviously I didn’t have the best relationships with my parents, or your mother. But I finally feel as though I have a place – in _our_ family.” She takes a deep breath and lets her lungs expand. “Not to mention, I wouldn’t be who I am now if you had left Storybrooke, or chose not to move there in the first place. In so many ways, you’ve shown me the type of person I want to be.”

“It’s the person you’ve always been, Regina – both because of, and in spite of your past,” Emma states with conviction, and she squeezes Regina’s hand tightly to let her know she means it. 

They stay that way for most of the night, pleasantly cozied into each other. 

And though this isn’t exactly what Emma’s been hoping for, she’s content with it -- even if she silently wishes on every star in the sky for so much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a long time to write this, because the actual episode in the wishverse ended up being such a colossal disappointment. Hopefully the chapter was kind of humorous, although I felt there should be some serious elements at this point, too. I’m going to try my best to add more if you all want it. Let me know.


	4. Chapter 4

Emma awakens to the sound of moaning – throaty, little breathless noises that instantly make her open her eyes. 

Regina has turned onto her side and curled into Emma, and there’s no way to move without the chance of waking her up. Not that Emma wants to move when it seems like Regina must be having an incredible dream. 

A light breeze rustles the trees around them, and the cool air causes Regina to press her body into Emma’s in search of warmth.

“Hard,” Regina quietly groans in her sleep, and grabs a fistful of Emma’s tunic. “Mm, yes.”

Emma’s eyes widen at the near-confirmation that Regina is having a dirty dream. 

“Emma,” Regina rasps encouragingly, and opens her mouth as if she has more to say.

Emma waits in anticipation, but when Regina falls silent for a few moments, she softly blurts out, “That’s my name, Regina. Say it again for me. Say Emma.”

“Oh, Emma,” Regina practically pants, and Emma feels a shiver and thrill shoot through her whole body. 

“Do you like that?” Emma asks with too much confidence as her nostrils flare from excitement. 

“No,” Regina firmly states, and removes her hand from Emma’s chest.

Emma does a double take, and checks to make sure that Regina is, in fact, asleep. 

“No?” Emma frowns, her voice full of shock and disbelief. “But—”

“Snow,” Regina mutters, and then latches onto Emma again. 

“Snow!? What the hell is my mom doing there?” Emma huffs out, attempting to envision whatever weird scenario might be unfolding in Regina’s dream.

“Whale,” Regina sighs, although it sounds more like she’s asking a question than answering one. 

“We’d better be making love by the ocean during a blizzard, Regina,” Emma grumbles, not at all pleased with the twist the dream is taking. 

“Cold,” Regina whines, and Emma realizes that the furs have shifted and the woman’s lower body has been exposed to the wind. 

Emma drags the fur down to cover Regina’s legs, making absolute certain that she’s protected from her chin all the way down to her toes. 

Regina settles, and her breathing changes -- her shallow gasps become mellow, relieved exhalations. 

“Well, whatever you’re dreaming, at least you seem satisfied now,” Emma whispers, but she speaks too soon, because Regina’s hand slides across her lower abs and up her tunic. 

“Or maybe not,” Emma squeaks in a high-pitched, startled voice. “And that’s totally fine. You can keep your hand there, if you want.”

Regina rakes her nails over sensitive skin, then claws at the soft spot just below Emma’s ribcage. 

“Getting a little rough there, Regina,” Emma hisses, though the woman’s nails leave arousing, white-hot pain in their wake. “I have to admit I’m into it.”

But Regina’s hand slackens, and her head begins to feel heavier on Emma’s shoulder. 

Emma lies still, and holds onto her until Regina’s sleeping peacefully. 

“I’m into this, too,” Emma confesses, and boldly kisses the top of Regina’s head before shutting her own eyes. 

When Emma awakens at daybreak and senses Regina stirring, she realizes that she’s spent the whole night with her arms snugly wrapped around the tinier woman. She scrambles out of the bedroll as fast as she can, and then glances back at Regina. 

Regina hunches over and rubs the sleep from her face. Her hair is sticking out and curling around her chin, and her eyes still squint drowsily to ward off the bright light of dawn. 

“Whoa, I would say you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, except we don’t have a bed,” Emma remarks.

It’s not that Regina looks too ruffled for her liking; it’s just that she’s feeling self-conscious about clinging to Regina throughout the night, and this is the only way she can think to deflect. 

“And I would say I want a divorce, except we aren’t actually married,” Regina snaps in return, and then drags her fingers through her short hair. “Don’t you know better than to comment on a woman’s appearance in the morning? You make a terrible husband.”

“It’s so unfair to judge me based on one thing I said,” Emma argues, and stumbles over to the fire pit to get the flames going again. “Don’t forget I gave you that great back massage. And I fought Hook and his band of smarmy mercenaries for you.”

“That was Hook?” Regina exhales sharply, and she’s suddenly staring at Emma in concern. “Why didn’t you say something about this last night?”

Emma casually rolls her shoulders, as if indifferent to yesterday’s discovery. “Meeting him here has made me realize I don’t want to be with him in any world,” she curtly explains. “And now I just don’t want to think about it. Why don’t you lie down again, and I’ll make you breakfast?”

“That would be nice,” Regina agrees, and lounges back with her arms tucked behind her head. “I am rather hungry.” 

Emma brightens, and gives Regina a glimmer of a smile as she confidently taps into her magic -- but it turns out to be a miserable failure, and she conjures up an angry chicken instead of the eggs she wants to conjure. The bird squawks furiously and sheds feathers everywhere until Emma’s covered in them. 

“When you said you’d bring me breakfast, I didn’t think it would be able to walk over to me,” Regina quips, as she watches Emma wrestling with the chicken, before it finally flies off. 

Emma grunts and spits out white chicken feathers. Her second attempt at conjuring eggs fortunately goes better than the first, and soon there’s a small pile resting in a basket in front of her, along with all of the ingredients for an omelet, milk, and flour she can use to make pancakes. “Here we go,” she remarks, as she successfully whips up some batter and steals a glance in Regina’s direction. “Cooking you breakfast should definitely earn me some brownie points.”

“That will depend on whether you burn yourself or the food in the process,” Regina intones, looking all too smug as she swats at the feathers that still linger in the air. 

“Just lie back and prepare to be impressed,” Emma demands, and pours her batter into a pan that materializes above the roaring fire. 

“I hope you don’t go around saying that to everyone you’ve spent the night with,” Regina coyly remarks. 

For a moment Emma wonders if the tone of this exchange matches with the back-and-forth banter they’ve been engaging in ever since they began masquerading as a couple. 

This feels a lot like real flirting to Emma, and she hesitates before asking, “Why not? I’m pretty skilled. I make great pancakes and omelets.”

“Well, perhaps you’re marriage material after all,” Regina lilts, and relaxes back into her fur blankets while she waits for her breakfast. 

“You’re only qualified to say that after you’ve tasted this,” Emma firmly states, and glances downward without realizing that she’s not staring at the pan at all. She turns red in embarrassment as Regina smirks and holds her gaze. 

“Then I’m all too happy to earn my qualifications,” Regina declares, with a softly sibilant enunciation. “It’s been a while since I’ve eaten such a treat. I’m sure I’ll find it satisfying—” She accepts her plate eagerly, and seems to delight in the aroma of the food before she takes her first bite. 

Emma blinks like she has sand in her eyes, and then stares openly while Regina eats. 

“Was it worth the wait?” Emma dully asks.

Regina licks syrup from her lips, and Emma is so deep in concentration that she barely hears the woman murmur, “Mm, yes. Delicious.”

The only way to snap herself out of this strong, lustful haze is for Emma to turn fully around, and force her feet to move. She feels as uncomfortable as she would if someone was changing behind her. 

“So, since Cinderella’s castle has already been cased – what are we going to do about travel?” Emma huffs out, as she begins to fidget and bounce on her heels. 

After a little while, Emma decides she’d better face Regina again, but she just falls right back into the same habit of staring. 

“We’ll take turns with our magic until we reach another village,” Regina replies, as if wholly oblivious to Emma’s building discomfort. 

“I can think of better ways we can exert ourselves,” Emma says, without even thinking about how her words might be perceived. 

Regina smiles almost curiously, and lifts an eyebrow over the comment. “Can you?” she asks. 

“We need our magic for self defense,” Emma hastily clarifies. “After last night, I don’t want to take any risks. I’d rather walk and poof away if there’s a problem.”

“I guess we’d better get going if we’re hiking through all of the northern wilderness, then.” Regina seems put-off by the idea of it, and yet willing to follow along with what Emma is proposing. She gazes down at the unfinished meal on her plate, and takes another bite before setting it aside. 

Emma is still drooling, even though Regina is the one with all of the food in front of her. 

“You should finish your breakfast,” Emma insists, though her mind is elsewhere. “Let me feel you up first – I mean, fill you up! Pancakes!” She grabs for the skillet, though her eyes settle and linger on Regina’s chest. “These!” she spits out quickly, lifting the pan that holds another helping of pancakes. “Not those,” she babbles, gesturing at Regina’s ample bust. “Those are more like grape fruits, honestly—” 

Emma would continue talking, except her face somehow gets stuck from all of the nonsense she’s just blurted. 

“Are you having a stroke?” Regina asks, and she sounds almost genuinely worried. “I’d ask if you can smell anything burning, but that question now has an obvious answer.” 

Regina peers over Emma’s shoulder at the smoke that rises from the fire pit, engulfing the other pan that she forgot to lift off. 

“I’m just a little over tired this morning,” Emma divulges, as if exhaustion is truly to blame for her idiotic rambling. “You were making funny noises in your sleep last night and woke me up. You also kept calling out my name—over and over again.” 

Tensing, Regina flicks the hair out of her face and then fixes Emma with a smoldering stare. “I’m sorry -- I must have been dreaming that you were behaving like a dog that doesn’t listen or come on command,” she remarks. 

“You probably have part of that right,” Emma easily agrees, then drops her voice to a mumble. “At least I’m hoping your dream had something to do with me coming.”

“We should get on the road,” Regina announces decisively, and tidies up their campsite with an impatient gesture that radiates magic. 

Emma scarfs down her breakfast at top speed, and she can tell from Regina’s facial expression that unlike Regina, she doesn’t look at all attractive with food stuffed in her mouth. “Yeah, let’s go,” she chokes out. 

To avoid further embarrassment, Emma trudges on ahead through the trees and lets Regina fall into line behind her. 

Thorny branches lie ahead of them and block out the sun in the sky above. The terrain makes it difficult to walk without stumbling, until they come to a marsh where the earth sucks at their feet. 

About halfway through the bog, Regina loses a boot. “That’s it,” she grumbles, and before Emma can even ask, purple magic encloses around her, and she’s spiraling through the air and off to another place.

“Wow, this view is breathtaking,” Emma blinks, gazing out over the flowers that cover green hilltops, and up at the snow capped mountain peaks that surround them. 

“Don’t get too excited,” Regina rasps in warning and then shoots a suspicious glare at the meadows. “In the Enchanted Forest, there is danger under every rock and pretty flower.” 

“Did you have to say that?” Emma whines and throws her hands up in resignation. “Can’t we just have a nice stroll this morning without you reminding me we’re in incessant danger?”

“Forgive me for not contributing to your delusional fantasies,” Regina snidely remarks as she strides through the tall grass. 

“I could argue you’re the number one contributor to those,” Emma grunts inaudibly, and kicks at the stones that lie in her path. 

“What was that about number one?” Regina asks, whipping her head around to glance back at Emma. “Please don’t tell me you have to go to the bathroom already. This is going to be worse than the road trip we took together, isn’t it?” 

“I don’t have to use the restroom, but it would be great if there were pit stops. I think if this world was actually designed for my wish fulfillment, we would have passed by at least one Taco Bell by now.” Emma drags her feet in the dust and tries not to sulk. 

“You just ate breakfast,” Regina points out, but it’s clear from the look on her face that she’s faring about as well as Emma. Neither of them feels ready to handle another eventful day. 

Emma scoops up purple and white wild flowers, and scatters petals into the breeze. “I’m still hungry,” she softly whines, and then frowns at a familiar lopsided boulder that she would swear she’s seen before. “Hey, didn’t we pass this rock already?” 

Away in the distance, she spots another familiar sight: Rumplestiltskin in his unmistakable leather suit with frilly cuffs that emphasize his every dramatic gesture.

“Do you see that?” Emma breathes. 

“Rumple,” Regina sourly confirms. “Belle’s homeland isn’t far away. He’s obviously up to no good.” 

“I’m pretty sure we’re trapped,” Emma reasons, although she sees moving caravans up ahead and shepherds herding their flocks. “Or there’s something slowing us down.”

“I can feel Rumple’s meddlesome magic,” Regina states, and attempts to call upon her own magic to challenge his, yet her hand shakes and she lowers it at her side. “Remind me not to go to him for any more favors.” 

“I’m not sure he realizes it’s us. But it seems like the people in front of us are getting through, so that’s a good sign,” Emma considers, then turns to find Regina leaning into the boulder and bending over at the waist. “Regina, are you okay?”

“What was in that omelet you served me?” Regina gasps, flaring her nostrils and swallowing hard. 

“Tomato, onions, cheese, mushrooms, some herbs—” Emma lists, perplexed by Regina’s sudden change in behavior. 

“And you just conjured up the ingredients without carefully considering their source, didn’t you?” Regina rasps in an accusatory tone, but then her voice lightens as she gazes around at the countryside. “The grass is moving in the breeze like ocean waves. The flowers seem brighter, and more colorful—”

“That’s really poetic, Regina,” Emma gently replies, wondering where Regina might be going with this train of thought. 

“I’m not reciting poetry, idiot,” Regina snaps, fully doubled-over and red in the face. “I am high. This is your doing. Why would you put an herb that you don’t even recognize into my breakfast?”

“I thought it was basil!” Emma defensively explains, and stares into Regina’s eyes – noting her dilated pupils and shortness of breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to feed you opioids or psychedelics or whatever I tossed into your breakfast.” 

“It’s called loonyleaf,” Regina clarifies, through tightly gritted teeth. “It’s an herb used in love potions.”

“How do you know for sure that’s what you ate?” Emma asks, although she’s more curious about whether or not Regina has ever used it before in the past. 

“One of my guards once tried to put it in my food in the hopes that I would be a bit nicer,” Regina husks, balling her fists in frustration. “I inflicted punishment by making him my morning sparring partner. I’m considering doing the same to you.”

Emma gulps air in concern and crosses her arms. She knows she should be apologetic, but she’s more intrigued than regretful. “Wait, what exactly does loonyleaf do?”

“It turns the person who consumes it into a babbling, lovesick moron. I always wondered if your mother somehow ate too much of it as a child—kind of like how children in your land eat paint chips.” Regina shifts in discomfort, clutching her middle and glaring up at Emma. “Fortunately I think you only gave me a mild dosage, but the effects should worsen before they disappear. That is, unless the herb causes me to vomit. I’m somewhat allergic to loonyleaf.”

“Allergic to being a lovesick moron?” Emma snorts at the hilarity of that. “Yeah that sounds like you.” 

Regina glares at her as if contemplating revenge, but before they can continue bickering, they hear the sound of a carriage rolling up. 

A young woman hops down from the carriage and offers a sympathetic smile to Regina. “Hello there!” she sweetly greets them, and moves closer to where Regina remains slouched against the large rock. “Can I do anything to help you? You look a bit green, love. I’m Bridget—”

Regina appears too startled by the sudden appearance of this stranger to reply. 

“She’s sick,” Emma huffs out and drops her hands at her sides. “Of me. I did this to her. You see, it was an accident – ”

“Of course,” Bridget brightens, and grasps Regina’s shoulder tenderly, even as Regina gazes back at her with a brooding and confused look on her face. “When are you due?” 

“Due?” Regina echoes furiously, offended by Bridget’s assumption. 

Bridget boldly touches Regina’s stomach, rubbing up and down once before removing her hand. “From the looks of it, not for a while. But you must travel with us!” She glances back at a child who sits atop the wagon, too little to scurry down but old enough to ride in front with her mother. 

Bridget does nothing to hide her judgment as she peers over at Emma. “This is no place to be traveling on foot, especially with your pregnant wife,” she scolds. “The Dark One has escaped, and he’s set up a barrier. We shall have to pay a steep price to get through—”

Emma ignores the criticism and focuses on Regina. “Come on darling,” she urges. She’s not going to miss out on an opportunity to get them a free ride. “Let’s get in the nice stranger’s carriage.”

“Everything is spinning,” Regina protests, and clutches her head in her hands. “I can’t move.”

Emma stamps her foot impatiently, but holds back to give Regina the chance to get her bearings. She only changes her mind about invading Regina’s personal space when she glances over her shoulder at the carriage that is about to leave without them. Then she kneels, gazes directly into Regina’s eyes and scoops her up. “I’ve got you,” she states. With a small but confident smile, she carries Regina and lifts her into the carriage. 

Regina gets a dewy eyed, enamored look on her face, but Emma is too distracted to notice. 

“That’s it,” Bridget hums cheerfully, and climbs up into the front of the carriage with her little one. “Just get comfortable and try to rest, you two.”

It’s not until they’re seated and the carriage starts moving that Emma realizes that this reminds her of the end of many fairytales. The couple that rides off together always lives happily ever after. 

Regina sighs contentedly, tucks herself against Emma and even threads their fingers together. 

Emma stares longingly into Regina’s eyes, and everything about this moment makes her expect a confession of love from Regina. She waits with bated breath for the loonyleaf to kick in, because at this point she’s so desperate that she will accept any acknowledgement that Regina has feelings for her. 

Regina’s eyes are soft, full of warmth and bliss. “You are the most dense person I have ever met, Emma Swan,” she unexpectedly exhales. “What do I have to do to get you to be more observant?”

Emma smiles stupidly until she completely processes the insults. “Hey, I already apologized for ruining your day and putting the loonyleaf in your breakfast!” she huffs rapidly, feeling overly defensive and worked up. “I don’t know what more you want.”

“You!” Regina shouts fiercely in annoyance. “I want you – ” 

“You want me to do what?” Emma yelps back, blowing the hair from her face with her loud and frantic exclamation. 

But Emma never gets an answer to her question—not immediately, because magical smoke billows into the carriage and snatches Regina away.


	5. Chapter 5

As Regina disappears from sight, Emma can only grasp at the air and flail. "Regina!" she frantically spits. "Wait-"

Never one to think things through when a situation calls for immediate action, Emma opens the door to the carriage and impulsively forces herself out. At worst, she figures she will land in the dirt and come away with a few bruises—but then she realizes that she's completely misjudged the landscape and thrown herself face-first into a ravine. She spins and free-falls over the scenic cliff side, snapping her body back and forth in spastic panic.

Emma only survives because she successfully taps into her magic, and because of a huge patch of thorns that breaks her fall. Sharp nettles dig into her ass and hair and leave tiny scratches all over her skin.

For a split second, she's relieved that Regina isn't there to comment on her deadly mistake, but then she hears a deep and fluid laugh that makes her jump.

"Regina?" she grunts, then whines a bit more urgently. "Regina?"

The dense thicket radiates with a magical ward, and her own magic seems wholly outmatched by it. The creator must be more powerful than her, though not strong enough to prevent her from crawling underneath the arching, spiky branches.

Dragging herself along with all of her upper arm strength, Emma pauses only to wipe sweat and blood from her forehead.

Exhaustion sets in, but she continues to belly flop forward as athletically as a beached seal.

It's made all the more terrible by her unhelpful mind, which keeps skipping back and forth between thoughts of Regina, and the ironic tune of When You Wish Upon a Star.

"That one time I wished to dive face-forward into a bush, I didn't mean an actual bush," she quietly hisses, deciding to address her complaints directly to the universe. "I was thinking more like a tiny patch in an otherwise smooth area. I don't even want to meet the sorceress that this belongs to-"

It's a long and backbreaking task to inch along underneath the thorny obstacle, but she makes it to the other side with only minor injuries. She's greeted by fog and dead trees, which surround a castle with a drawbridge and high towers. The look of the place is unwelcoming, but she crosses the bridge and makes her way up the unguarded stone pathways.

She's absolutely filthy and broken down when she reaches what she assumes is the grand reception hall. Her knight's helmet is missing, and she looks a lot like a beggar woman. Fortunately no one seems to be around—that is, except for the footstool that promptly starts speaking to her.

"Mademoiselle!" shouts the footstool intently. "Come upstairs, and I shall ready a bath for you at once."

"Actually, I'm here to look for a woman," Emma stutters in confusion, taken aback by the footstool's liveliness.

"Oh yes, Mademoiselle," the footstool chuckles. "What kind do you fancy? Petite, brunette, intense eyes and a matching personality? I found just the one upstairs! Let's get you cleaned up first, and then you can go to her!"

It's disturbing to watch the furniture speak, but Emma realizes a bit dismally that out of everyone she's met in the wishverse and her own realm, a talking footstool is the first to accurately peg her romantic preferences. Even better, the footstool's description of the woman perfectly matches Regina.

So she lets the perceptive little footstool nudge her along, bouncing off the back of her legs, and she stumbles forward in spite of herself. "Right this way!" the footstool instructs.

She climbs a spiraling staircase to the east wing of the castle, where the footstool gives her a pair of clean trousers and a basin of water to clean her face. Then the footstool cheerfully shows her to Regina.

In a tower bedroom, comfortably reclining in a large wooden tub filled with suds, Regina is taking a leisurely soak. Bubbles float around her, and she seems fixated on their shiny surfaces.

"Regina?" Emma blinks, and stops short as she gets an eyeful of Regina's body.

"Emma?" Regina sulks, not at all aware of Emma's wandering gaze. "Hours have gone by, and I'm still hallucinating. The bubbles keep changing shape and I've been hearing voices-"

"Are you sure it's not just some pervert watching you bathe?" Emma asks, then glances around in search of more talking and potentially peeping upholstery. She wonders what it would be like to fight a sofa.

"I thought of that," Regina states, and also gives the bedroom a once-over. "But it's your voice I've been hearing. Perhaps you're not even here with me right now. All of this could be in my head. Maybe I'm not even real—" She reaches for a towel to pat down her face, and for a second her bare breasts are visible.

"I am one hundred percent sure those are real," Emma drools quietly, then blushes a mortified red and turns away.

"If it is you, don't you have anything to finally say to me?" Regina demands, with sad eyes and a bit of a pout.

Emma has to think about it, but then she scrunches her nose apologetically and comes out with, "I'm really sorry I haven't found a way to get us home yet, and that I accidentally gave you mind altering substances for breakfast? But hey, on the bright side, it doesn't seem like you've gotten all gushy about love yet—"

"That's because I give up on love," Regina complains, and throws back her head in complete resignation and despair. "Okay? I give up."

"Look, Regina, I know what you're going through," Emma sympathetically reassures her. "But take it from me: nothing is more abundant than love, and there has to be someone else out there for you. I don't mean to be insensitive, but our town is filled with people who are already accustomed to groveling at your feet-"

"If you think I am interested in any of the people in that town, you're even higher than I am," Regina retorts, and dismissively rolls her eyes.

"Well, then branch out," Emma suggests, unwilling to participate in this pity party that she suspects revolves around a certain swindling forest-dweller. "There's a whole world outside of Storybrooke, and right now we're supposed to be concentrating on getting back to it." She's hovering right over Regina's bath, and her eyes start to wander again—but this time she's respectful and looks at the floating bubbles instead of where she wants to look.

Each bubble contains an unfolding scene that must have emerged from Regina's drug-addled imagination. A few of them depict Emma in near-death situations, carrying out laborious and painstaking tasks, or experiencing other forms of suffering. "Wait, what is this? Are you strangling me in this one? These are dark, Regina," she breathes. "Remember that time you said you don't want to kill me? I'm going to have trouble believing that now."

"I'm only inflicting fatal injuries in a small percentage of these," Regina argues in her own defense, shooting a dismissive glance at Emma. "Besides, this is just a side effect of the loonyleaf and has no relation to what I'm currently feeling."

Judging by the deeply brooding expression on her face, Regina isn't exactly filled with love and tenderness at the moment. But Emma re-assesses the situations that are playing out in Regina's other hallucinations.

"Some of these are pretty boring now that I'm taking a closer look," Emma concedes with a faintly dimpled smile. "Here's one where you're at the office."

"Nothing to see there-" Regina hastily insists.

"Wait," Emma frowns and steps closer. "Is that someone under your desk?"

Regina snaps out of her daze long enough to pop the bubbles. "Hate to burst your bubble," she husks, "but just because all of this is on display doesn't give you the right to look."

Emma swallows, and stupidly peers down into the bath for a glimpse of everything else that's on view. It's an instant reaction, one that she tries to self-correct by backing away from Regina. "Yeah, I'll just sit over here in the corner until you're done bathing, or better yet, I'll go grab you something to wear."

She pushes at the door, and somehow manages to get herself out into the corridor.

Not long after, someone who looks just like Emma enters the room—but she's wearing a black leather vest and a pair of tight pants. This Emma is clutching another leather outfit, and she shamelessly checks Regina out as she glides over to the tub.

"I see you've found me some clothes," Regina remarks, as she rises from the bath to reach for the items. "Did you change, too?" She smirks, glancing at Emma's strange attire. "You know, as a 'couple' we've gone through an interesting progression these last few days. It's only our third day of marriage, and we're already dressing for the dungeon – and not the type you necessarily find in castles."

"Wait, we've been married for three days, and you're not consumed with passion?" Emma asks, sounding genuinely baffled and more than a little offended. "Tell me, why aren't we spending our day in the marriage bed?"

Regina laughs incredulously. "You do have a good sense of humor, even if you're lacking in all other forms of sense. If I'm being completely honest, I am tired of traveling. I wouldn't mind taking a nap, at least until the effects of the loony leaf completely wear off. Is there some kind of nightdress or tunic in any of the wardrobes? I only wear leather to bed when I'm in a certain kind of mood."

"How do I get you in the mood to wear nothing to bed?" Emma smirks, and cants her head to the side arrogantly.

"Typically I would say a glass of red wine and foreplay, but we've had almost four years of foreplay, and you're no closer to getting my clothes off," Regina huffs. "I'm clearly still hallucinating, so I am going to just lie down anyway." She tucks a long bath sheet tightly around herself and falls into bed.

Emma rushes headlong into the room, notices Regina sprawled out in bed, and then spies her lanky twin in the corner. The leather clad Emma greets her with a smug look of superiority.

"Who the hell are you?" Emma asks crossly, and dumps all of the clothes she'd been carrying into a pile near the door.

This other Emma resembles Dark Swan, although her facial expressions are less severe and her hair is even more fused to her head.

"What, am I that unrecognizable?" Dark Swan husks, and strides over to the bed with slow, but jaunty steps. "I would say it's quite obvious who I am. You, on the other hand – you look much different. Trying out a new look these days? Did you get tired of all the ball gowns and tiaras?"

Emma blinks, totally put off guard by coming face-to-face with this cynical version of herself. "There's two of us in this world?" she frowns. "Or maybe now there's three of us. I'm not from here, but I think I took Princess Emma's place somehow. I'm from a land where the Evil Queen was able to enact her Dark Curse." She fidgets in discomfort, and steals a glance at Regina, who seems oblivious or otherwise uninterested in their conversation. "I grew up without a family… so, a long time ago, I wished for another life. And this is my wish fulfilled. It's definitely not what I expected or wanted, but maybe there's a lesson to be learned from it."

"That your experiences make you who you are?" Dark Swan quietly interrupts as she walks around Regina's recently vacated tub. "And you can't have it all. Either you can spend your whole life making others happy, or you can make yourself happy."

"What did you choose?" Emma softly asks, looking searchingly at herself for answers.

"Isn't that obvious?" Dark Swan replies, and her voice is so unlike Emma's – the difference is like the difference between a light breeze and a gustier wind. "I tried to have it all – to make my parents happy, and myself happy. But it tore me apart. Quite literally." She stares at Regina in undisguised appreciation and curiosity. "This is what you have back in your world, and you still wanted to come here?"

"Coming here was sort of an accident," Emma explains, not at all confirming or denying that she has any claim to Regina. "Could you maybe help me, seeing as you are me?"

"Do you want pointers?" Dark Swan taunts, with a devious smile that just pulls at the corners of her lips. "I guess it's been a while since you've used your mouth for anything but talking. My advice is to put all of that pent up energy to good use. Regina's already on the bed-"

Emma rolls her eyes so hard that she jerks her head in the same direction. "Yeah, if you're only going to say things that my own dirty mind can think up, then you're no help to us at all," she huffs. "I'm looking for a magic bean—"

"Is that what all of the ladies are calling it these days?" Dark Swan sarcastically drawls, wholly amused by her own joke. "I'd be more than happy to demonstrate with Regina. You can watch and take notes."

"You know that isn't the kind of help I'm asking for—" Emma clarifies with a groan, but she doesn't get another word in edgewise because Regina chooses that moment to speak up.

"Hello," Regina emphatically complains, and gestures at herself in frustration. "This is my hallucination. Why are you two ignoring me? You should be feeding me grapes and rubbing me with body oil. Or am I going to be twice as unappreciated and ignored?"

"I'll gladly be of assistance," Dark Swan murmurs, and removes her leather jacket to reveal a white tunic underneath with long sleeves that she rolls up.

Emma jealously clenches her jaw and rolls up her own sleeves clumsily. "Nice of you to volunteer," she grunts. "I hope you're this enthusiastic about finding us a way home."

"The door's over there if you want to get a head start," Dark Swan gently suggests, and then warms some body oil in her hands before working it into Regina's shoulders.

Emma aggressively steps in and cracks her knuckles, then begins rubbing Regina's lower back all while having a glaring competition with herself. This reminds her of the time she tried to beat her own high score at Space Invaders. She's mashing her fingers into Regina at the same frenzied pace she'd use to win a game.

"Stop jabbing me in the kidneys," Regina hisses, and smacks Emma's hand away in anger. "Since you're both figments of my imagination, I expected I would at least get some satisfaction out of this, but I suppose not even the most powerful hallucinogenic in all of the lands will give me a model of Emma who both excels at shiatsu massage and reading the signs of my body-"

"Signs?" Emma grunts, exhaling loudly through her nostrils and losing her patience. "You're the one constantly throwing up detours, Regina, and I have no idea where I'm going. What's the destination? Put up a big glowing arrow, and point my way-"

"Those types of signs are for tacky motels," Regina broods, pushing her eyebrows together and her bottom lip out.

"Which are great for one night stays," Emma lightly declares.

"And murders," Regina challengingly growls out, and Emma shrinks down at that, appropriately chastised.

Dark Swan gloats silently, but only until Regina swats her, too.

The talking footstool hops back into the bedroom then, bringing an end to any further scolding that Regina might deliver. "Maîtresse!" he squeals, stomping all four of his wooden legs. "My guests have come!"

"What, did you get a shipment from IKEA?" Emma half mutters, half snorts, in a weak effort to lighten the atmosphere in the room.

"You're about as thick as wood, so you'll be in good company," Regina rumbles scornfully, and Emma sighs because she's sure the next few days are going to be rough. It's been a long time since Regina has directed this much ire her way, and she has no idea how to fix this situation.

Dark Swan stands at the window and takes in the sight of the arriving carriages, then glances back at her loyal servant. "He's hosting a ball in the hopes of finding me a suitor, breaking my curse and reuniting me with Princess Emma. But being stuck with all of her fears and self-hatred was worse than any curse, even if I'm now estranged from my family." She hangs her head in thought, and her jaw tightens reflexively as her attention shifts to Regina. "I've been exiled. Just like the Evil Queen of this realm. No offense to you - "

"So you do know who I am," Regina concludes uneasily, and yanks the sheet she's wearing even closer around her shoulders. "And everything I said to you earlier, I actually said aloud to a living person. At least the effects of the loonyleaf are starting to subside now."

"My family banished me?" Emma belatedly blurts, and she must look wounded and pitiful because she immediately earns Regina's sympathy. Regina touches Emma's arm reassuringly, and some of the tension goes out of her — both the tension from their fight and the idea of parental abandonment.

"They're not the same people, Emma," Regina gently reminds her, continuing to pat her on the shoulder. "You don't belong here, and you can't call anyone in this realm 'family' - "

"Just one person." Emma musters up a tiny smile, though it's an insecure one. She tries to shake off the negativity that threatens to surface, and instead focuses on Dark Swan.

"Framboise," Dark Swan interjects, addressing the footstool for the first time by name. "Go ahead and make ready for the banquet, but set two extra chairs beside my own. Also, make sure all of my magical wards are down, as we discussed-"

"We really shouldn't stay," Emma breathes out anxiously, and her lungs compress until her next words sound airy and strained. "Regina came to this realm to save me, but she had some trouble reminding me of my true identity. She thought that by threatening Snow and David, it would jostle me out of the weird state of forgetfulness that I was in when I arrived. Unfortunately both of your parents were collateral damage—"

"My parents? They're dead?" Dark Swan asks unbelievingly, and her face falls into a somber expression that Emma recognizes well. "The news doesn't shock me as much as it should. The truth is they've been dead to me for a long time," she whispers with conviction, even if the corners of her eyes are damp. She balls her fists at her sides and swallows in discomfort. "But you mentioned that Princess Emma is also missing, or that you somehow took her place. That means Henry is alone."

"Ahem!" Framboise pipes in, and jumps around to get Dark Swan's notice. "Your son is among the attendees! Even the werewolves have come. It will be quite the party. I shall need you to conjure up another set of the fine china-"

"Yes, pick out a nice plate for my head while you're at it," Regina sharply quips, raising both her eyebrows in dismay at the guest list.

"There won't be a need for that," Dark Swan reasons, tucking her hands behind her back while she paces and comes up with a clever way to avoid conflict. "You're already posing as a couple. What if that continued and we announced our engagement to the entire realm? That is - Emma could pretend to be me, and you could pretend to be the one who is going to break my curse."

Emma winces doubtfully, but Dark Swan presses on with a whisper that is almost a plea: "I'll be their Princess again."

The clincher for Emma is the note of hopefulness in Dark Swan's voice. "That would solve a lot of our problems," Emma hesitantly rationalizes, catching Regina's eye. "We wouldn't have to worry about anyone hunting us down, or this kingdom falling into complete mayhem. And of course there's the Henry of this realm to think about –"

"We can hold the ceremony right away," Dark Swan eagerly adds, sounding far too excited for Emma to save face in front of Regina. "We just have to convince everyone that you share true love. With a couple of magical effects, it shouldn't be hard to fool them all-"

"Wait one moment," Regina commands, as she flings her hand out and gestures at the far off gathering wedding crowd that Dark Swan is discussing. "We are not just talking about pretending anymore. If there's going to be a ceremony, we are talking about an actual marriage."

"Marry me?" Emma squeaks in the tiniest voice possible. "It's not like it'll count in our world."

"What a romantic proposal," Regina states in the driest of ways, and rolls her eyes at Emma's utter lack of tact. "No one would ever guess you are the daughter of a real life fairytale couple that has been written about time and time again in many love stories. Speaking of which: you're forgetting that many of the residents of Storybrooke were married in the Enchanted Forest and we simply issued them marriage contracts. So, if we're trifling with technicalities, it will count. Besides, Princess Emma will also need to explain why her Queen will have abandoned her after less than 24 hours, because we are going home."

"It just doesn't feel right leaving this place in total chaos," Emma frowns, afraid to meet Regina's eyes or even lift her head. "If we just restore this Emma to the throne, she can figure out the details afterwards. Maybe we'll even find our way home by fixing this mess, and if not, we can follow our original plan to search for the Evil Queen. As for getting married in this realm – it'll be like getting married in Vegas."

Regina peers over at Dark Swan, and Emma can see that her compassion is beginning to win out. "Your look alike does have the slicked back hair of a bad celebrity impersonator," Regina remarks. "And you do seem the type to be drawn in by the challenge of an all-you-can-eat-buffet, but comparing this to a Vegas wedding is not a point in your favor."

"Ugh," Regina grunts and slides out of bed impetuously. "I can't believe I'm agreeing to this, but I'll elope with you. I'm only doing it because I can't stand the thought of any version of Henry being utterly alone in the world. However, if this plan has any unforeseen and negative consequences, I'm going seize the half of your assets that I'll legally be entitled to, and build a monument to your stupidity in the center of town."

"Well, it looks like I finally found the one advantage to being totally broke," Emma mutters, although she cracks a genuine smile at the prospect of marrying Regina anyway.

It's not exactly what Emma has always wanted, but it's a close approximation to it.

"I also want it in writing that no one will ever find out about this – " Regina hesitates, then selects a word that makes her whole body tense. "This farce."

With all of her raw emotion on view, Regina inhales deeply and then juts her chin, lest it wobble.

"Are you worried about gossip?" Emma whispers, trying not to draw too much attention to Regina's unsettled state. "We aren't even in a relationship, Regina. Everything can just go back to normal when we return to Storybrooke. We're just doing this as a peacekeeping effort."

Emma can't understand why Regina's reacting this way, but all of the sudden, Regina's mood changes drastically and she becomes angry.

"Oh, if you tell anyone about this, there will be bloodshed," Regina softly enunciates. "Understood? Now, I'd better make myself presentable for dinner. All three of you – get out." She spins towards the footstool and Dark Swan, and then guides them to the door.

Emma helplessly follows her Wish World counterpart and the footstool through the corridor. She would have liked to talk privately with Regina, but this whole day has been a major set back for them, which is ironic considering how it's ended – with a marriage proposal.

"I must admit, Mademoiselle, I don't understand human behavior," the footstool sheepishly announces. Every time he hops along, he clatters against the stone floor.

"Well, you figured out how I feel about Regina before she did," Emma sighs forlornly.

"Oh, yes, that is true," the footstool hums. "It might seem a bit funny coming from me, since I shouldn't be able to talk at all, but here's a bright idea: why don't you try communicating with her?"

And Emma thinks: why doesn't she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a long time to get into the headspace required to write this (and yes, I know, it's been 6 months and I'm sure some people no longer care). But hopefully this update is okay. I'm not certain the tone completely matches with everything I've constructed so far. If you feel up to leaving me a comment and letting me know what you think, I would be grateful.


	6. Chapter 6

Emma struts into the banquet hall later that evening with a whole lot of unearned confidence. 

If she’s ever going to have this conversation, it had better happen before she’s fake-married to Regina, but as she glances around at all of the guests she realizes she might have a problem: there’s a swarm of Regina look-alikes that instantly flock to her as she makes her way to her seat. 

On the bright side, at least there’s _one_ version of Emma in all of the possible realms who knows how to impress women. 

“Is it true what they say?” asks a very attractive Regina look-like. “I hear you’re engaged to be married!”

“Oh please say it isn’t so!” cries another dramatic woman, who’s practically strangling herself with the fancy shawl around her neck. 

It becomes clear to Emma that while the Dark Princess has been banished to the middle of nowhere, she certainly hasn’t been lonely: more than half of these guests have spent _a lot_ of time keeping her company. And now she understands why the footstool readily assumed she was looking for Regina earlier: he must have mistaken her for Dark Swan, and _she_ definitely has a type. 

The rest of the crowd in the banquet hall comes from Princess Emma’s kingdom, and they all watch with unease as Emma ventures further into the hall. She’s dressed in the fashion of Dark Emma, in leather trousers and a vest.

Prince Henry stands with his hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword, and strides forward to meet her with Granny and Jiminy Cricket close at his back. 

“Your footstool came in here over an hour ago,” Prince Henry states with belligerence. “He informed us that you defeated the Evil Queen, and that Princess Emma is under your care, recovering after her abduction.”

Emma is thankful for Henry’s summary of the story that they’re supposed to be telling everyone. Without it, she might not know what to say. Frowning, she squinches her face seriously and nods in confirmation. “That’s right… her _abduction._ ” She fails to mention how willing she would be to follow Regina literally anywhere. 

All of Henry’s loyal friends push closer to hear her story, and she coughs nervously as she tries to come up with some convincing details. “Princess Emma is totally worn out. She’s been tortured. The Queen chained and whipped her… It went on for hours and hours, and got really freaky—I mean scary.”

“I’ll show you scary,” she hears Regina growl, and Emma nearly falls over herself. 

In a full-length pewter evening gown with a tight corseted bodice, Regina makes Emma’s mouth fall open. Emma can tell it’s Regina, in spite of the glamor that they have used to deceive everyone else.

“Did I mention Emma was whipped?” Emma states again, more for Regina’s benefit than for the sake of the narrative. “Yeah, completely whipped.” She spins around to make sure that no one else is listening too closely to her, and then addresses Prince Henry, Granny and the rest of the gatherers. “Anyway, I’d like to formally introduce you all to my bride. This is Princess…Bubblegum.”

“Princess Bubblegum!?” Regina huffs out indignantly, but only within earshot of Emma. “Why would you give me the name of a cartoon character?”

“I mean, you’re already kind of a cartoon character,” Emma points out, although she only picked Princess Bubblegum because she’s trying to think fast on her feet. 

“Bubblegum, is it?” asks an unfriendly-looking brunette. “That’s a fitting name, because I want to chew you up and spit you out.”

“Well, you already spit like a camel during normal conversation, so you might want to give everyone an opportunity to take cover first,” Regina quips challengingly, and the brunette scowls as she backs off to the corner of the banquet hall. 

“Don’t mind her,” pleads another girl, who greets them cheerfully and introduces herself as Giselle. “She’s just envious of the woman who has finally convinced Emma to give her hand in marriage—”

“I wouldn’t have objected to giving her my hand _before_ marriage,” Emma mutters, wiggling her fingers out of sight. 

Fortunately no one seems to have heard her, and Regina seems distracted by Prince Henry, who has wandered off to his seat. 

Regina sits down in her own place of honor, and an enchanted quartet of instruments begins to play upbeat music to invite dancers to the ballroom floor. 

Emma joins Regina, and tries to summon up the courage to discuss her feelings, but instead she finds herself glancing around at all of the guests who are crowded into the hall and staring at them expectantly. 

“We should figure out a game plan,” Emma breathes nervously. “Everyone’s looking at us. Maybe make eyes at me, and how about a public display of your feelings for me?”

Regina rolls her shoulders as if in preparation, though she holds out her hand in a hesitant manner. “So how hard do you want me to slap you?” she asks duly. 

“I was thinking something more gentle, and less likely to leave a bright red mark? Just kiss me, Regina,” Emma grunts out, and they both move forward to close the gap between them. 

Regina’s eyes are soft and hypnotic, and Emma blinks nervously as they kiss, the magnetism between them undeniable. Their lips brush together, parting hotly, and Emma feels Regina’s tongue in her mouth. She indulges the slow, natural pace of it, even as she blushes furiously. Her ears and face are bright pink when she sits back and clears her throat. 

“Your face is so red that you would have been better off with the slap,” Regina lilts, all too arrogantly. “Need I remind you that you’re supposed to be a big bad force of chaos in this realm, and not some blushing bride?”

“Good point,” Emma agrees, and scrunches her nose to be cute. “Join me on the dance floor, so I can show you how bad I really am?”

Regina holds out her hand, and Emma takes it to lead her out onto the center of the ballroom floor. Emma intends to be suave, but her sheer nervousness makes her stumble and stomp Regina’s toes more than once.

“Well, you’re giving me ample proof of how _bad_ you are,” Regina grates through tightly locked teeth. “I thought you meant bad in a different sense, but I’m beginning to understand why Emma’s companion is a footstool in this land. If she dances anything like you, she must break a lot of toes. My feet are already sore--”

“Good thing it’s our wedding night and you won’t be spending it on your feet,” Emma breathes through her nose—too fast to stop herself. “You’ll be on your back – ”

Regina tenses, wearing her shock and anger on her face in equal measure. “Yes, in our bed!” she emphasizes. “ _Alone!_ You’ll be on the floor.”

“A round of applause for our happy couple!” The footstool calls out, and Emma cringes at the poor timing. 

The quartet of enchanted instruments begins to play a softer, romantic melody to slow the pace of the dancers and bring them close in each other’s arms. 

Emma swallows and feels her mouth go dry. “A slow dance,” she frowns. “Do you want to sit this one out?”

“Of course not,” Regina practically snaps, stepping nearer to Emma and arranging their arms. “Do you know how much work it’s going to take to convince anyone that I’m actually in love with you?”

Emma fidgets in place and rolls her eyes as Regina settles against her. 

Regina tucks her chin onto Emma’s shoulder and sways with her, cheek to cheek. Pressing against each other this way goes to straight Emma’s head. She wants to confess her true feelings to Regina, but instead she blurts, “For your information, Regina, there’s a lot of women in this room that think I’m quite the catch--” 

“Yes, I have no doubt they spend a lot of their time catching things, especially sexually transmitted diseases,” Regina gruffly remarks, glancing around at all of the women who are openly drooling over Emma. “Looks like the madness brought on by untreated syphilis. After all, you’d have to be mentally compromised to pine after someone as stubborn, coarse and as blundering as you.” 

Emma takes genuine offense to that. “Then I guess the joke’s on you, Regina, because you’re the one who’s marrying me later.”

“Well, there is that unforgettable little clause about _til death do us part,_ ” Regina grunts, and angrily squints one eye at her. 

Regina initiates a deep kiss with fierce momentum then, and Emma’s jaw slackens in shock as Regina moans into her open mouth. 

Emma’s left breathless and dizzy, with pinpricks of brightness shooting through her vision. “I think I’m seeing white lights,” she mutters. “If that was part of some plan to kill me, then you nailed it, Regina. Forget about the prophecy of my death—” 

It’s only after Emma reels back that she notices they had been attracting negative attention with their fighting, and the kiss had been a ploy to save them.

Regina grins ear to ear, and mischievously glances away, just in time for Framboise to parade out onto the dance floor. 

“Regina,” Emma finally sighs out, trying to get her attention back. “All joking aside, I want to make you feel special today. This place isn’t technically real, but our emotions are – and – ”

“It is now time!” Framboise squeaks enthusiastically, and darts around to find them among the guests. “Lady Bubblegum, and Princess Emma – if you’ll just go upstairs and get into your wedding attire, we can hold the ceremony and afterwards the banquet!” 

Emma helplessly reaches for Regina’s hand, but Framboise scuttles underfoot and shoves her in the other direction. With one fleeting look back, Regina disappears into the crowd of guests and the next time Emma will see her is when they’re both walking down the aisle. 

“Framboise, you blockhead,” Emma airily huffs. “I was about to tell Regina how I feel about her!” 

“I know, mademoiselle! I watched you make several _terrible_ attempts,” Framboise declares, and skitters off just as Emma deflates. She follows him to the stairs that lead to Dark Swan’s bedroom, and there upon the bed she finds an impressive red tunic with a leopard cape. The outfit reminds her of every cliché representation of a King she’s ever seen. 

Dark Emma is reading from a dusty book while lounging on a sofa. She glances up when Emma catches sight of her, then puts the book aside and gives her a pitying look – and Emma thinks this is self-pity on a whole new level. 

“So, good luck,” Dark Emma says easily, with a gentle roll of her shoulders that means she has doubts about their brilliant plan working, after all. 

“You’re not even going to come watch the ceremony?” Emma complains, somewhat indignantly. 

“Too much secondhand embarrassment,” Dark Emma casually replies. “Or… firsthand. Whichever.” 

Fed up, Emma grabs for her outfit with both hands and storms out of the room to find another space to change. She locates an empty parlor and steps inside to change in front of a mirror. But when she puts on her wedding attire, she looks ridiculous and very much like the King of Hearts from any pack of playing cards. If she had some matching groomsmen or bridesmaids, they would have resembled a royal flush.

Framboise hops in to collect her, and then he’s ushering her off to the ceremonial hall. She feels almost the same as she did when she was free-falling into the giant thorn bush. 

If that’s not bad enough, everyone turns to stare as Emma strolls into the cavernous hall and begins to hiccup in distress. The sound carries far in the silence, and Emma can’t manage to hold her breath as she forces one foot in front of the other, and marches down the aisle to the accompaniment of her own loud wheezing and gasping. 

It’s not until she gets to the altar that the music begins. Flutists pipe out a soft tune and the whole crowd seems to sigh in anticipation. 

Emma spins around and her eyes lock on her bride, who stands at the front of the hall in a floor-length wedding gown that billows femininely and yet shows off Regina’s every curve. 

Regina reaches the altar, glances her up and down and then bursts into laughter. “You look like you got your outfit half price at the costume store,” she quietly confides, but her voice is devoid of acrimony. “You’re lucky there will be no photo evidence of our wedding, because I would definitely get enough prints for the whole family to shame you.”

Emma rolls her eyes good-naturedly and takes Regina’s hand. “And what? Send them out as wedding announcements?” she mutters. 

But Regina doesn’t get the chance to answer her question, because the old bishop who is marrying them steps down from his place and stands in front of them. “Dearly beloved, we come together today to celebrate this most auspicious occasion and the end of a dark time for all of us,” he begins. “Our leaders have fallen, but this union is a chance for us to start anew. Princess Emma and Princess Bubblegum shall usher in our next chapter and restore our realm to all its former glory.” 

The bishop raises his hands in the air, and then reaches for his book. “They shall swear to uphold the oath of marriage in front of all present witnesses, and thus forevermore seal their most unbreakable bond.” He holds out the book in front of him. “Emma and Bubblegum, place your hands upon this book and vow your love and faithfulness to each other.”

Emma puts her hand on the book without hesitation, and tries to catch Regina’s eye. She’s staring at Regina longingly, and Regina takes a moment to stare back at her before placing her hand onto the book and facing her.

Regina clears her throat, although she still struggles to speak. “You are my only friend, and I would do anything for you, Emma,” she emphasizes, swallowing thickly. She appears to hesitate, and Emma wonders if she’s going to say something sarcastic, but then she pushes on and what she says leaves Emma speechless.

“You have become a part of my life that I know I can never do without,” Regina candidly admits. “We make a great team, and I want you by my side to face every challenge our lives frequently throw at us. Swearing my faithfulness and love to you is easy: it just further affirms what was already there, because I do love you. Truly. You’re the mother of my son, and the only person who has ever sacrificed for me. You give generously every day with no expectation of getting any favors back in return. And your kindheartedness leaves me in awe of you, time and time again. This is a land where all of your wishes are supposed to come true. And it’s funny, because I am sure I wished on a star for _you_. When I was younger, and desperately afraid or in pain, I wished for someone to protect me. I wished for love, and for strength and for so much more. You have made all of my wishes come true, in one way or another. There’s nothing truer, and nothing more powerful than what you and I share.”

Emma feels her lower lip quiver and tears gush from her eyes, and she’s both over the moon and mortified because of Regina’s vows. “All of this is a terrible mistake,” she hears herself blubber, unable to think clearly about the consequences of speaking freely in front of their wedding guests. “I’m so sorry, Regina. I should never have suggested we go along with this plan. I don’t want to marry you here with all of these strangers! If you ever want to marry me in the future, I want to do it the right way – at home, with all of our family and friends. Preferably after we date each other for a while and you find out if you can actually put up with me longer term. I was so afraid to tell you that I have feelings for you, because I thought you’d laugh in my face and our friendship would change. I also didn’t want to risk traumatizing Henry, or making it weird for my parents. On some level my mom still sees you as her stepmom and the Evil Queen, and that’s a problem for all of us. I know there’s some part of you that’s afraid we’ll all turn our backs on you in the future, and part of you that believes you deserve to be punished for everything you did as the Evil Queen. But I love you, Regina – I love all of you.”

“That’s lovely, Emma,” Regina calmly replies, and then there’s a note of urgency in her voice. “But _shut up._ ” She’s gone stiff and the bishop is gaping at them in confusion, and the whole audience seems to be on the verge of lunging for them.

“It’s the Evil Queen!” Henry shouts loudly, for all of the slower guests who aren’t paying attention or quick to figure it out. “She’s using a spell to hide herself, and she must have used magic on my mother!”

Regina acts swiftly, and transforms herself into the Evil Queen. Emma knows why she’s done it: Regina plans to handle this, to take the fall for it so that there’s no chance Emma will get hurt. 

“You caught me, Henry,” Regina announces in her flaunting way. “This is who I really am.”

But unexpectedly, Giselle stands up in the audience and she also transforms into the Evil Queen – but this one is much older, even if she’s still strikingly beautiful. “No, it’s not,” she firmly states. 

Dark Swan bursts into the wedding hall and ruses straight towards the Evil Queen. “I knew you’d show up for the wedding!” she shouts.

The Evil Queen rolls her eyes impatiently, and paces back and forth in front of the guests. “Not much of a wedding now, is it?” she asks. “Instead of one runaway bride, you’re about to have two.” 

Purple clouds of magic conceal the Queen, Regina and Emma—and before anyone can react, they are all spirited away to another castle. 

All of the commotion has left Emma a little breathless and without any filter. “Damn,” she mutters too loudly to Regina. “You aged well.” 

“Am I destined to have one of _these_ following me around in every reality?” the Evil Queen sighs, casting a doleful look at Emma. 

Regina is more composed, and completely mesmerized by this other version of herself. “How did you know we were here?” she demands.

“Word travels fast and far when two of the royal family get murdered,” the Evil Queen sniffs, and she sits down at her vanity. “It took me a few days to figure out what was going on. I was sure I’d meet you eventually. But I didn’t expect you to turn up at the wedding of all places.”

“I’m sorry for what I did to Snow and Charming, especially because now the blame falls on you,” Regina murmurs quietly. “I take responsibility.” 

“It’s not Regina’s fault,” Emma insists, and steps in between Regina and the Queen just in case there’s a confrontation. “We’re here because of me.” 

For some reason, the Queen only stares back at Emma in a searching, curious manner. She’s assessing her, and Emma stands to her full height and sticks out her chin. 

“You have no need to worry,” the Queen finally remarks, with only softness in her voice as she delivers this reassurance. “No one can get through my magical wards, unless I let them.” 

Emma finds herself enthralled by the Queen’s beauty and serene energy. Her cheek bones are still well-defined, and her eyes still as bright and captivating. She plaits her silvery hair into a long braid and removes the earrings she had been wearing as Giselle. 

“I assume you need a way to get home?” the Queen asks, almost offhandedly. “I would be happy to supply you with one, if you do me a favor in return.”

Regina seems on edge, and fidgets with the sleeves of her dress until the Queen seeks to make a deal with them. Then she snaps back to attention, and immediately steps forward. “Tell me what you want,” she demands. 

“I didn’t mean you,” the Queen pointedly replies, and shoos Regina aside. “Just Emma. You can stand out in the hall.”

At a loss, Regina shares a glance with Emma and then moodily excuses herself to the hall. 

Emma braces herself for whatever is to come, and moves closer to where the Queen sits. “What kind of crazy quest are you sending me on?” she asks.

The Queen placidly gazes at her through the looking glass, and then faces her dead-on. She takes Emma’s hand, and squints up at her. “I’ve grown old and grey in this tower, wondering why I could never find my happily ever after,” she confides. “I thought I needed to get revenge on Snow and Prince Charming, but even when Princess Emma began visiting me and it shattered their happy little family, I was miserable. I did my best to change, to bring others joy, but I don’t have time to continue searching for my own happiness. I’m dying, Emma.” There’s no self-pity in her confession, no tears in her eyes as she glances towards the hall where Regina is waiting. “But that person over there, she’s very much alive and so in love with you. I listened to your vows, and even before that, I saw how the two of you playfully bicker.” 

The Queen glances down at her hand, and slides a ring off her finger – the same exact blue-green ring that Regina lost to the pixies. “I want you to give her this,” she whispers passionately. “Give her the happiest life you can.”

Stunned, Emma holds out her palm to receive the gift. “It’s her ring,” she mutters. “She had one, too. It’s gone now. She said it symbolized a promise she made to herself, to never give up her search for happiness.”

“It’s fitting that you’re the one to give it back to her,” the Queen softly insists, and closes Emma’s fist around the jewel. 

“Thank you,” Emma whispers, and she bends down to place her hand on the Queen’s shoulder. 

“Don’t tell Regina what we discussed,” the Queen requests, and then she slips by Emma to open the door for Regina. 

Regina appears perplexed as she steps back into the room, glances between them, and crosses her arms. “That’s it?” she asks in disbelief, staring at Emma. “What kind of favor did you do for her in five minutes?”

The Queen seems worried about Regina finding out the truth, so Emma just waggles her eyebrows and says, “Maybe you’ll find out later tonight.” 

It’s not a lie, even if it is yet another crude joke. 

“If _that_ only takes you five minutes, then I’m seriously disappointed,” Regina grunts, and rolls her eyes towards the ceiling. “Ugh, why am I in love with you?”

Emma grins, so big that it makes her face ache. “No idea, but I’m in love with you, too.”

The Queen goes to her wardrobe, picks up a pair of ruby slippers and passes them over to Regina. “I borrowed these from another couple,” she explains. “This is how you’ll get home. Since you are a pair, you can each put on one shoe. Safe travels.”

Regina tugs off her heel, and she’s about to slide her foot into one of the shoes, but then she hesitates. “Wait,” she frowns. “I did something back in our land. I found a way to sever myself from the darkest parts of who I became, but I’m not at peace with that decision.” She’s nervous about this conversation, but it’s obvious she’s asking a question that she’s had in mind since they hatched their plan to locate the Evil Queen of this realm. “How did you find peace with yourself after all of these years?”

The Queen gracefully bows her head in thought, and then reaches out to grasp Regina’s hand. “I helped out another who was like me,” she asserts. Her eyes wander towards the window of the tower, and Emma follows her gaze to catch a glimpse of Dark Swan on horseback, appearing in a wave of black magic and riding at full gallop towards the castle. 

“I recognized that we as people aren’t the sum of our deeds, whether good or bad,” the Queen continues. “Some of my most negative traits have been an asset to me. There’s a reason weeds survive. We can’t all live like roses, however much we try. But to hate yourself, to truly despise who you are? That’s cutting yourself down.” Her voice becomes more tremulous and low as she speaks. “Once I embraced every part of myself, I saw that flowers could still grow in my life. Even now, as old as I am, I found a way to bloom again.” She peers over at Emma, and her eyes trail down to where Emma still clutches the ring tightly in her fist. 

“Tend to yourself kindly, Regina,” the Queen pleads, and Regina nods to her in appreciation. 

They hold hands until Emma and Regina put on the ruby slippers, and Emma smiles at Regina and leans into her. 

“I guess there’s no place like home?” Emma asks, although there’s a bittersweet feeling that swells in her gut as she circles her arms around Regina. It’s soon replaced by pure happiness, as she realizes just how much they have to look forward to once they’re back in Storybrooke. She has faith that she won’t perish now, and that she will find some way to beat the prophecy. “There’s no place like home. Our home.”

There’s an exhilarating swirl of lights that converge around them, and then they are gone.

The Queen stands in the spot where they vanished long enough for her Emma to ascend to the tower. She’s still rooted there, even when Emma reaches the doorway. 

“You haven’t come to see me since I moved into Rumple’s old castle,” Emma complains, and then shuffles into the room with a soft scuffling of her boots. “He’s free from his prison, and he’ll be wanting it back now.”

The Queen does not turn around, but she feels Emma standing right behind her. “So, have you come to say goodbye?” the Queen asks. “You must be heading home to rule your kingdom.”

“I felt something after you left with the other Emma and Regina,” Emma whispers, and her lips are close enough that the hairs on the back of the Queen’s neck stand up. “I felt like my curse had finally broken, or maybe I just realized that this is where I want to be. I tried to explain what happened to Henry. He’s angry with me right now, and still mourning the loss of his grandparents, but I think he’ll come around. Maybe he will visit soon.”

Emma puts a hand out and touches the Queen’s arm with gentleness. “I know you told me a million times to go, but I belong here,” she whispers, begging for the Queen to agree, to see it her way just this once: they are happier and better when they are together, even if this isn’t quite a relationship, and even if their entire lives have been so much more confusing and hard because fate brought them together at the wrong time. It all feels like it’s just _not_ enough. 

But to her relief, the Queen says “Stay” -- almost too quietly to be heard, and then: “I want you to stay with me. _Until the end._ ” 

 

\-- 

 

Across all of the realms, Regina and Emma are back where they belong: and when the Evil Queen impulsively snips the thread that links her to Regina with the shears of destiny, Regina can’t help but remember what the Queen from the Wish realm said to her about flowers and cutting.

It feels like yet another wrong choice in a series of horrible choices that her Evil half has made, but Regina fixes the mistake effortlessly by combining their hearts. 

Then Henry writes a happy ending for the Evil Queen, and the Evil Queen does get her second chance. 

She awakens in a castle on what should have been her deathbed. But she is young now, and oh so ready to love again, and Emma is there with her. She is the final part of Emma’s wish, no matter the place or the time or the world. 

And Regina and Emma get not one, but _two_ happy endings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's probably it for this story, folks. If you read and enjoyed, please let me know. Maybe I'll write an epilogue with Regina and Emma in Storybrooke some time, or another tale with some humor. 
> 
> (I'll admit I did originally envision all of this as two separate chapters, but I think that would have just been dragging things out).


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

Emma bends down until she's eye level with her creation: it's misshapen, and she's not totally sure how to divvy it up, but it smells rich and chocolatey, and her mouth waters as she tries to pry it loose from the baking pan.

She's about to mix up some frosting to put on top of the brownie cake when she hears Henry calling her from the other room.

Hours later, Regina wanders in to find the kitchen in a disarray. "Emma?" she patiently calls out, and waits a beat in silence. "Idiot?" She tries again, with growing exasperation as she glances around at all of Emma's failed attempts – muck that has been left at the bottom of three large bowls, an open carton of eggs that Emma carelessly left out on the countertop, and the pile of dishes in the sink. Somehow, there's a light coating of flour on the kitchen floor and chocolate handprints over by the fridge. "Miss Swan?" she finally roars, and that makes Emma react.

Emma dashes into the kitchen at a comical speed and slides through the flour until she comes to a skidding stop in front of Regina. "Uh oh," she frowns sheepishly. "I guess you found my surprise?"

"Is that what _this_ is?" Regina marvels, with wide eyes and a broad gesture at the wreckage. "It seems more like a complete mess." She squints warily at the brownie cake for a moment. "Besides, I won't be eating anything you made after that omelet incident."

"It's been four months!" Emma protests with a roll of her eyes, and then reaches for a mixing bowl to make frosting. "Trust me, Regina, this time if I put anything into your brownies, it will be intentional. I'm not into recreational drug use but that loonyleaf really made you loosen up." Smirking jovially, Emma whips powdered sugar and water together and then uses the frosting to crookedly write the words _I AM GAY_ on the brownie cake.

Regina peers at the lettering on the cake and scoffs. "That's supposed to surprise me? I think I figured that out, considering how many times a week you give me something else to eat - "

Emma drops the bowl on the table. She decides to get handsy with Regina, and backs her into the countertop by teasingly reaching for her with frosted fingers.

"I never thought I'd say this again but keep those hands far, far away from me," Regina laughs, and grins so broadly that it aches. Emma lowers her hands and leans in to kiss up Regina's neck, all the way to her lips. Their kiss lasts so long that Regina forgets her request and pulls Emma's arms around her.

Emma thinks about knocking all of the bowls and plates off the counter so she can lift Regina up, but their entire family is waiting for them in the living room — or at least Emma assumes that.

Snow clears her throat to make her presence known, and blushes scarlet as she steps into the kitchen. Her eyes go owlishly wide when she spots Emma's cake, but she's wearing a tiny, knowing smile. "Oh Emma," she sighs weakly. "You didn't have to literally spell it out for us."

Emma instinctively recoils, and goes stiff as her mother approaches; she can't look her in the eye until Snow takes her hand.

David barrels into the kitchen and comes to a confused stop as he notices Snow with Emma, and just how uneasily Regina is hanging back and staring at the kitchen floor.

"We aren't that oblivious," Snow insists, with shimmering eyes and a tight smile. "We sensed something had shifted the second you both returned from the wish realm."

David drops his gaze and nervously wipes at the sweat on the back of his neck. "That, and I might have found all of Regina's lingerie at your place," he admits. "It was an accident—"

Henry strolls into the kitchen then, barring anyone from saying much more about David's discovery. The kid doesn't even pause over the brownie cake, and just rams a hunk of it straight into his mouth. "Hey, can I get a tray of brownies every time you decide to point out the total obvious?" he asks, with a sly grin.

"Sure, kid," Emma agreeably says, although her forehead still scrunches a bit uncertainly as she glances towards her parents. "Does that mean you're all okay with it?" She senses Regina shrinking behind her, feigning disinterest although it's clear that she cares deeply about what they all think.

"I'm pretty ecstatic, and the food is a nice touch," Henry enthusiastically replies, snatching another brownie because how can anyone scold him for celebrating this? "Why wouldn't I want my two moms to be together? It's exactly the kind of cheesy love story I would write, and what both of you deserve."

Emma's shoulders relax almost instantly, but she's still waiting for the approval of her parents. They seem just as happy as Henry, and yet she braces herself just in case they say anything less than pleasant.

"I've never seen you smile brighter, or more genuinely around anyone," David exhales, and grins in a laid back way that reflects his total acceptance. "For a while, you looked kind of unhealthy, Emma. But now you look like you're at peace with yourself and frankly I'm relieved."

Emma stands up a little straighter, and her eyes brighten as her lips curl happily. "What about you, Mom?" she asks, and feels herself straining a bit as she awaits answers that could potentially shatter her.

Snow seems much more emotional than David, and tears suddenly gush down her cheeks as she moves closer to her daughter. "Emma, all I want is your happiness," she emphasizes. "I always thought it didn't matter to me who provides it. But in this case I think it's evident that it does matter."

Emma prepares herself for disaster, because that choice of wording sends alarm up her spine, but then Snow reaches out to take her hand and Regina's –

"Regina," Snow warmly sighs, and leans towards them both almost yearningly. "You matter so much to me. Recently, you've apologized several times because of our past, but when you split in two I realized you're still hurting, and maybe that hasn't changed even now that the Queen is back where she belongs—within you... and in Emma's strange land, forged from a lifetime of her wishes. I think you forgive yourself for what you've done. But you made me aware that I haven't forgiven myself and I haven't apologized enough. I made you a prisoner, and I took away your choices for love. I would _never_ do that to you again. I'm happy for you and Emma. I really, really am."

Snow engulfs her daughter and Regina in a tight hug, and cries tears of joy that give way to a giddy laugh. To Emma's surprise, Regina presses herself into Snow's arms and holds on, with her eyes sealed shut to keep back tears that inevitably spill anyway, trickling in hot trails down her face.

It's Henry who interrupts them, rocking on his heels as he saves them all from awkwardness as they separate. "Okay, can we get back to our game of monopoly now?" he asks. "I'm finally beating Grandpa. I can't wait to see the look on his face when he has to start forking over properties."

Emma grabs the cake, and they all go into the living room to join Rumple and Belle for the rest of family game night.

Rumple smirks at the sight of dessert, and then pats his stomach. "No cake for me, dearie, but I see that congratulations are in order," he murmurs, and then adds with a touch of humor: "You've finally figured out who you are." He briefly glances towards Regina, and then returns his attention towards his game with Henry.

Belle moons over the cake and hugs them both as she exclaims, "Oh! You two, how wonderful!"

For the first time ever, Henry wins at monopoly – although the rest of the family evening passes uneventfully.

Later that night, Emma sits in front of the fireplace and takes a small jewelry box out of her pocket. She stares down at the blue-green stone as its colors shift from the glow of the flames.

It's been months since the Queen gave her this, and although Emma meant to give it to Regina much sooner, she's held off for a while out of fear.

Emma hides the box behind her back as Regina comes into the living room with cups of coffee. "I have a question I want to ask you," Emma murmurs.

Regina tenses up as if she's expected this, and refuses to hand over Emma's cup. "Again?" she sighs in disbelief. "Emma, for the last time, I might have some kinks, but I am not going to let you do _that._ "

Emma screws up her face and shakes her head in dismay. "No, no, not that!" she insists.

"What is it, then?" Regina asks impatiently, and drops down onto the couch beside her.

"Just come with me, okay?" Emma pleads, and reaches for Regina's hand, pulling her up from the place where she only just settled. "I don't know that much about astronomy, but I learned a little to impress you." She tugs Regina outside, down the path towards the hedges, and stops just between the house and the road. "See up there? That's Cygnus, the swan constellation. And that bright star just there? It's Deneb. In pictures it almost seems blue." Rattling off facts, Emma frowns and nervously wipes her sweaty hands down the front of her jeans.

Regina appreciatively casts her eyes up at the sky, mesmerized by how clear it is in Maine.

"There's a fairytale about lovers meeting under that star," Emma softly explains. "Deneb. And guess what? The Swan constellation it belongs to was visible at the time of year when we first met, right here in this same spot." She's teary and her voice suddenly goes hoarse, making this whole speech that she meticulously planned seem even harder. "Regina, I know we haven't been together for a long time but this feels like the true love everyone always talks about, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So I'm wishing on every star that's up there right now that you'll say yes. Marry me?" Somehow, Emma remembers to kneel down on the hard slate walkway and fish the ring out of her pocket to present to Regina. "For real this time."

Regina stands aghast, almost resembling the woman who came rushing down this same path to collect her missing son all of those years ago. "Yes," she finally replies. "I will marry you." And then she notices the ring in Emma's hand, and bends with surprise to get a better glimpse of it. "Oh, Emma, how did you get this?"

"The Queen from the Wishverse gave it to me," Emma readily supplies, and plucks it out of the box she stowed it in for safekeeping. "I brought it to the jeweler in town. He added the other diamonds and fixed the setting, and he's going to make wedding bands to go with it. We can have a long engagement, if you want. But I feel like we courted each other for years in our own ass backward way." Rolling her shoulders, she tries to loosen out of the stiff posture she's been in practically all afternoon and night.

"I was immediately attracted to you from the moment we met, and then you got me drunk and I crashed my car," Emma smirks at the memory, as she slips the ring onto Regina's finger. "I probably wouldn't have stayed here if not for that, and I'm sure you thought you screwed yourself. Bet you never thought I'd be screwing you years later –"

"I was about to compliment you for delivering such a romantic proposal, but congratulations, you just ruined it," Regina dryly remarks, and pulls her hand back from Emma with a roll of her eyes. "That was even worse than your fake proposal."

Emma compensates by wrapping her arms around Regina and sweeping her off her feet. "I'm not even finished yet," she proudly assures her. "But we have to go inside for the next thing I have planned."

Regina appears satisfied by that, and Emma carries her into the house and through the hall to the kitchen.

"Look, I got you this as an engagement present," Emma excitedly reveals, and sets Regina down so she can pick up a large box containing a sandwich maker. "It has a lot of different settings. I can't wait to try it out."

Regina purses her lips together and glares at the box, as if completely unsurprised. "Of course your idea of romance is sandwiches."

"Emma," Regina sighs almost defeatedly, and takes her hand to squeeze it. "I just want to know how you feel. You joke around a lot, and while it's amusing, I want you to speak from the heart—"

Emma tenses in discomfort, drops her head and then coyly peers through her lashes at Regina as she asks, "Before or after I make you a sandwich?" Her shoulders slump and she bounces on the balls of her feet for a second before she works out what to say.

"Regina," Emma murmurs, and her chin softens as her eyes grow wet. "I love you," she stresses. "And it shouldn't have taken going to a whole other world to realize that. Because you and Henry are my world now, and in spite of what I wished for in the past, I don't want a different life anymore. Sure, being a foster kid sucked, and it might have been nice to settle down sooner, but growing up in this world clearly gave me some advantages. It made me independent, strong and more well-rounded." She blinks as she thinks back to Princess Emma's timid behavior and all of her frilly ball gowns. "It also gave me much better fashion sense."

"I wouldn't go that far," Regina huffs out under her breath, but allows Emma to continue.

"The point is, my wishes still came true," Emma smiles, sniffling a bit and glancing around as she batted her eyelashes to prevent tears from spilling. "I still got everything I ever wanted, but in a way I never could have predicted. It's been for the better."

"I know that ring on your finger was originally a promise to yourself, to keep looking for happiness, no matter what," Emma breathes out emphatically, and takes Regina's hand so they can both admire the stone. "Now it's a promise from me to you. I always want to be the one to make you happy."

Regina plays with the ring on her finger as Emma concludes her proposal, and then they share a steamy kiss that makes them both a little lightheaded and red in the face.

\------

Across the realms, in the land built of wishes, a sad and lonely little voice calls out from a place most dark and desolate. "For the love of God! Please, why won't anyone acknowledge me?" It sobs. " _Ahem,_ Maîtresse!"

There's a soft creaking of the bed above the footstool, and then it begins to rock wildly as he trembles in fright. The Queen moans deliciously, a deep alto sound that fills the entire bedroom. The footstool whines in discomfort until at last Dark Swan peeks her head over the bed and peers down at him.

"Framboise," Dark Swan mutters. "Uh, what are you doing here?"

"I was dusting all of the rooms to prepare for Prince Henry's visit and I became trapped in here when you two started going at it!" the footstool indignantly complains, and tries to free himself from where he's stuck between the bed frame and the wall.

Dark Swan climbs out of bed to help wrench the footstool free and carry him off to a safe distance by the door. "Just between us, you're made of wood… but you can't like, get wood, right?" she asks.

The footstool peers over at the Queen, who stands in a state of undress by the end of the bed and waits for Swan to return.

"Ugh!" Framboise protests in agitation, and begins kicking his legs as much as he can. "Just because I love Regina more than you does not mean that I desire her that way. Now put me down gently!"

Dark Swan sobers at that, but there's a rare twinkle of good humor in her eyes. "The reason you get along with her better is because the two of you are alike. You both like a good hammering, but then randomly complain that I need to be more gentle—"

"You are the most insufferable Mistress—" the footstool huffs, shivering in anger on behalf of the Queen.

The Queen smugly intervenes then, and wraps a robe around her body before she slings her arms around Emma. "Yes, she is, isn't she?" she lilts.

Framboise does a little jig when the Queen approaches, and he happily squeals out "Regina!"

"My lovely little footstool," the Queen croons, in a way that instantly placates him. "What are you doing in our bedroom?"

"Attempting to make it spotless!" the footstool cheerfully reports, and then glances around at Dark Swan. "I expected to find many dirty things in here but let me tell you, what I heard was outright filthy! You should not allow Emma to speak to you that way. Fill her mouth with soap!"

"Don't you worry, Framboise," The Queen confidently reassures him, and pretends to push Dark Swan around. "I will punish her for it, and that punishment will _absolutely_ involve her mouth.

"Oh dear!" Framboise cries, completely flustered by the Queen's suggestive tone. "I will go downstairs then! You are always loudest when that happens!" He flees before there's any chance of overhearing another interaction between them.

The Queen whirls around to face Dark Swan then, who broods over by the large arching windows that show off the lands below. "Shall we pick up where we left off?" she asks.

"In a minute," Dark Swan muses, and then stares out at the stars in the cloudless sky. "I feel very lucky tonight."

" _Well_ , you did just get lucky—" The Queen agrees, but she softens at Dark Swan's reflective mood. "I do, however, know what you mean. To be spared my tragic ending, and to find true love? I am very fortunate, indeed."

"I am sure there are many people out there just like us," Dark Swan considers, leaning over the rails to contemplate the surrounding villages, and far off worlds that they were sure to never see. "Maybe not exactly like us, but similar people with the same kinds of hopes and dreams."

"If that's the case, then I wish for every one of us to be happy, each in her own way," The Queen sighs, and tucks herself into Dark Swan's side—a place where she knows she will be for many nights to come, for the rest of her long and happy life.

"I do, too," Dark Swan confirms, and leans back into her contentedly. "Now, do you think we can pick up right where we left off?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed - thank you for reading, if you came back to check this out. Apologies it took so long to get this posted. xx


End file.
